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THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE 


OR 


THE  OLD  CHAPEL  MYSTERY 


BY 

SYLVANUS  COBB,  JR. 

AUTHOR   OF    "ORION,    THE    GOLD-BEATER,"   "THE   GUNMAKER   OP 
MOSCOW,"   "THE   PAINTER  OF  PARMA,"  ETC. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
HENEY  T.  COATES  &  CO. 


MARY  T.  COBB. 


COPYRIGHT,  1896,  BY 
THE  CASSELL   PUBLISHING  CO. 


All  rights  reserved. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTKB.  PAGE 

I.  OUR  HERO  MAKES  Two  PROMISES,                                 i 

II.    A  NEW  LORD, 15 

III.  OUR  HERO  MEETS  WITH  AN  ADVENTURE,      .        .     30 

IV.     DEAD  MAN'S  REEF, 43 

V.    OLD  DONALD'S  CONFESSION, 56 

VI.    ON  WITCH'S  CRAG 69 

VII.  A  SPECTER  IN  THE  MONK'S  CHAPEL,        .        .        .83 

VIII.     LORD  OAKLEIGH, 96 

IX.     A  COMPROMISE, no 

X.  A  BROKEN  HAND— A  WONDERFUL  DISCOVERY,  .        123 

XL     IN  THE  SECRET  CRYPT, 137 

XII.  AN  EXPLORING  EXPEDITION,        ....        150 

XIII.  A  STARTLING  REVELATION, 164 

XIV.  AN  ATTEMPT  AT  MURDER,          ....        177 
XV.  CONSTERNATION  AT  THE  CASTLE,      ....  191 

XVI.    A  TERRIBLE  MOMENT, 205 

XVII.    A  SURPRISE  FOR  ALL  HANDS, 218 

XVIII.    MARGERY'S  REVELATION, 233 


iii 


1966312 


THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE; 

OR, 

The  Old  Chapel  Mystery. 

CHAPTER   I. 

OUR  HERO  MAKES  TWO  PROMISES. 

WE  doubt  if  there  is  anywhere  on  the  sea  board 
of  England  another  stretch  of  coast  so  wild  and  rug- 
ged, and  so  forbidding  of  aspect  to  navigators,  as 
is  that  of  Headlandshire — probably  so  called  because 
of  its  numerous  bold  headlands  overlooking  the 
Irish  Sea. 

Not  far  from  midway  of  this  stretch  of  coast  is 
an  inlet  of  the  sea,  called  Raven  Bay ;  and  from  this 
bay  there  is  still  another  inlet,  narrow  and  dubious 
of  entrance,  but  deep  and  broad  within,  called  King's 
Cove. 

The  story  goes  that  once  upon  a  time  an  English 
king,  fleeing  from  his  rebellious  subjects  by  sea, 
sought  shelter  here  and  safety;  and  found  them 
both. 

The  bay  itself  is  no  mean  shelter  when  safely 
gained.  About  its  entrance  are  numerous  rocks, 
large  and  small — some  lifting  their  storm-beaten 
x 


2  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

crests  above  the  surface  of  the  water,  while  many 
lie  hidden  beneath  it ;  also,  there  are  a  number  of 
small  islands  so  arranged  as  to  effectually  vail  the 
inlet  from  the  eyes  of  strangers  passing  to  and  fro 
outside. 

The  man  who  would  run  even  an  ordinary  yacht 
in  safety  into  Raven  Bay  must  be  thoroughly  ac- 
quainted with  every  fathom  of  the  true  channel. 

But,  though  we  have  gained  that  first  haven,  we 
see  nothing  of  King's  Cove — not  a  sign  of  it.  Yet 
it  is  not  far  off.  Away  in  the  southeast  corner  are 
two  small  well-wooded  islands,  which  appear,  when 
viewed  from  the  bosom  of  the  bay,  to  be  simple 
lumps  of  the  mainland ;  but  once  get  in  behind  the 
outer  one  and  we  find  a  narrow,  deep,  winding  chan- 
nel running  between  the  two,  and  finally  opening 
into  a  basin  of  water  wonderful  to  behold. 

There  it  lies,  an  entirely  land-locked  off-put  of  the 
sea,  oval  in  form,  very  nearly  a  mile  long  by  three- 
quarters  of  a  mile  wide,  deep  enough  and  broad 
enough  to  float  a  naval  squadron. 

Not  only  was  this  cove  land-locked,  but  it  was  so 
completely  environed  by  woods — by  forest  monarchs 
— as  to  be  as  invisible  from  the  land  as  from  the 
water  side. 

From  Raven  Bay  the  view  landward  was  partly 
wild  and  rugged,  but  altogether  picturesque  and  ro- 
mantic. On  the  left,  to  the  northward,  as  we  face 
inward  from  the  seas,  distant  a  mile  and  a  half  rose 
a  grim  towering  mass  of  volcanic  rock,  known  as  the 
Witch's  Crag. 


OUR  HERO  MAKES   TWO  PROMISES,  3 

Towards  the  bay  the  crag  descended  gradually— 
a  continuous  ragged,  rocky  declivity — to  the  water's 
edge. 

Eastward  from  the  bay,on  a  gradual  verdant  slope, 
many  miles  in  extent,  opened  to  view  one  of  the 
most  beautifully  romantic  scenes  in  England — the 
magnificent  park,  the  outlying  farms,  the  flanking 
forest,  and  the  grand  old  castle  of  Allerdale ;  while 
nearer  at  hand,  close  upon  the  shore,  nestled  a  pretty 
village,  bearing  the  same  name. 

And  this  whole  stretch  of  landscape  was  cut  in 
twain,  near  its  center,  by  a  silvery,  limpid  stream, 
rising  in  the  distant  hills  and  flowing  westward  until 
it  mingled  its  tide  with  the  waters  of  the  bay.  It  was 
called  Dale  River. 

There  is  one  other  view  that  must  not  be  over- 
looked. Away  to  the  right,  towards  the  south,  half 
a  mile  from  the  village,  but  only  a  few  rods  distant 
from  the  eastern  shore  of  Kings'  Cove,  in  the  edge 
of  the  forest,  with  no  other  human  habitation  near, 
stood  a  small  stone  cottage,  the  abode,  when  on 
shore,  of  the  chief  of  a  crew  of  smugglers,  whose  lair 
was  in  the  adjacent  hidden  inlet. 

We  now  approach  two  scenes  of  a  different  charac- 
ter. The  first  is  in  the  cottage  of  the  smuggler 
chief. 

Hugh  Maitland,  now  close  upon  his  fortieth  year, 
had  for  full  half  his  life  been  a  bold  and  successful 
smuggler.  Never,  as  yet,  had  he  been  arrested. 

Not  only  had  the  secret  cove  afforded  him  safe 
hiding  from  the  king's  cruisers,  but  the  mass  of  the 


4  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

people,  high  and  low,  whom  he  had  furnished  abun- 
dantly and  cheaply  with  many  a  luxury  of  life,  had 
been  his  friends,  tried  and  true,  in  the  hour  of  need. 

At  length,  however,  an  enemy  with  whom  he  was 
powerless  to  contend  had  laid  its  unsparing  hand 
upon  him. 

He  was  dying.  A  round  shot,  from  the  bow  gun 
of  a  revenue  cutter,  had  struck  the  quarter-rail  of  his 
brig,  knocking  therefrom  a  splinter,  which  had  en- 
tered his  side. 

Two  surgeons  had  been  with  him  until  within  a 
few  minutes  of  the  time  when  we  look  in  upon  him. 
and  had  promised  to  call  again  during  the  day,  but 
not  with  the  hope  of  saving  him.  Death  was  sure, 
and  close  at  hand. 

The  dying  chief  lay  upon  a  comfortable  bed,  in  a 
rear  apartment  on  the  ground  floor  of  the  cottage, 
and  near  him  were  two  persons — his  wife,  Margery, 
and  his  son,  Percy. 

Margery  Maitland  was  of  middle  age;  a  tall, 
handsome  woman  of  dark  complexion,  her  hair 
black  as  a  raven's  wing,  with  a  pair  of  full,  bright, 
restless  eyes  to  match. 

She  had  loved  her  husband  better  than  anything 
else  on  earth.  Her  marriage  had  cost  her  friends 
and  position,  and  she  had  prized  the  thing  gained 
accordingly. 

She  had  been  a  faithful  and  devoted  companion 
of  his  home  life,  making  that  home  as  pleasant  and 
attractive  to  him  as  she  could. 

Perhaps   if  his  life  had  been  entirely  passed  at 


OUR  HERO  MAKES   TWO  PROMISES.  5 

home  she  might  not  have  made  it  quite  an  elysium 
for  him ;  but  let  that  pass.  With  regard  to  her  love 
for  her  son — of  that  anon. 

Percy  Maitland  had  entered  upon  the  sixteenth 
year  of  his  life.  He  looked  old  for  his  age.  Neither 
in  form  nor  in  feature  did  he  resemble  his  father  or 
his  mother.  He  was  tall,  like  his  mother,  and,  like 
her,  handsome,  and  there  the  likeness  ended. 

He  was  of  a  light,  ruddy  complexion;  his  hair, 
floating  about  his  shapely  head  in  wavy  masses, 
was  a  rich,  golden  auburn  in  color;  his  eyes  were 
blue  as  sapphires ;  his  brow  high,  broad  and  full,  with 
the  lower  features  in  symmetrical  keeping. 

The  whole  face,  in  short,  was  a  picture  of  manly 
beauty.  It  was  a  face  to  admire,  a  face  to  love, 
and,  above  and  beyond  all,  it  was  most  emphatic- 
ally a  face  to  trust. 

Falsehood  and  deceit,  treachery  and  cunning, 
together  with  all  the  baser  passions  and  instincts 
of  human  nature,  were  as  foreign  to  that  face  as 
is  darkness  to  the  full  blaze  of  noonday.  His 
youth  gave  ample  promise  of  a  strong  and  vigorous 
manhood. 

Whatever  may  have  been  the  feelings  of  the 
mother  toward  her  son,  his  father  had  loved  him  with 
a  love  bordering  on  passion. 

He  had  been  proud  of  his  boy's  beauty  and  proud 
of  his  surpassing  intellectual  qualities;  and  when 
Percy  had  decided  that  he  would  not  sail  in  the  brig 
as  one  of  her  crew — that  he  could  not  find  it  in  his 
heart  to  become  a  smuggler — the  chieftain  had  seen 


6  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

the  curate  of  the  village  church,  a  finished  scholar, 
and  engaged  him  to  be  private  tutor  to  his  boy. 
And  so  it  had  been. 

Strangely  enough,  the  mother  had  fought  against 
all  this.  She  had  insisted  upon  it — had  put  forth 
all  her  influence  to  that  end — that  the  boy  should 
follow  the  fortunes  of  his  father,  and  be  ready,  when 
the  time  should  come,  to  take  command  of  the 
smuggler  brig. 

But  she  had  pleaded  and  labored  in  vain.  The 
love  of  the  father  had  been  proof  against  all  opposing 
forces. 

A  November  day  was  drawing  to  its  close,  and 
a  November  chill  was  in  the  fierce  gusts  that  shook 
the  limbs  of  the  forest  trees  outside,  as  Hugh  Mait- 
land  lay  dying  in  the  old  stone  cottage.  For  sev- 
eral minutes  he  had  gazed  upon  the  face  of  his  son, 
thinking  deeply.  By  and  by  he  spoke : 

"Percy !"  The  boy  started  and  looked  up.  Then 
he  arose  and  would  have  advanced  to  the  bedside, 
but  his  father  waved  him  back. 

"No,  no.  Sit  down,  my  boy ;  I  have  something 
to  say  to  you.  Now,"  when  the  youth  was  again 
seated,  "I  wish  you  to  answer  me.  Have  I  not,  so 
far  as  I  could,  so  far  as  it  was  in  me  to  do,  been  a 
kind  and  loving  father  to  you?" 

"Oh,  my  father!"  cried  the  son,  extending  his 
clasped  hands  towards  the  bed.  "You  have  been  all 
that  an  earthly  parent  could  be.  I  know  you  have 
loved  me  well  and  truly.  Since  I  can  remember 
your  whole  heart  has  been  mine ;  and  you  know, 


OUR  HERO  MAKES   TWO  PROMISES.  ^ 

you  know,  father,  that  I  have  loved  you  in  re- 
turn." 

"Aye,  my  boy,  I  do  know  it ;  and  I  tell  you  truly, 
your  love  has  been  a  blessing  to  me."  He  paused 
here,  and  closed  his  eyes  as  though  to  rest. 

He  had  spoken  with  difficulty,  for  he  had  become 
very  weak,  and  the  speaking  fatigued  him.  Present- 
ly he  looked  up  and  spoke  again.  His  tones  were 
low  and  wavering,  but  with  a  depth  that  plainly  told 
of  former  power  and  compass;  and  he  spoke  dis- 
tinctly. 

"Percy,  I  have  two  requests  to  make;  two  prom- 
ises I  ask  from  you  in  return.  It  is  understood  on 
all  hands — your  mother  understands,  and  Donald 
Rodney  understands  and  through  him  every  man  of 
the  crew  will  gain  knowledge — that  you  are,  hence- 
forth and  forever,  free  from  any  connection  what- 
ever with  the  contraband  traffic.  You  shall  never 
be  asked  to  go  outside  in  our  vessel ;  nor  shall  you 
be  asked  to  help  land  any  item  of  our  contraband 
goods — Hush!  Don't  thank  me  yet.  Wait  until 
you  have  heard  my  requests. 

"My  dear  boy,  I  shall  not  live  to  see  another  day, 
I  am  bleeding  internally.  Ah !  I  know  the  signs. 
The  end  is  nearer  than  you  think.  I  am  going — 
going  to  leave  your  mother  alone,  if  you  forsake  her. 
My  first  petition  is  this :  Until  you  have  reached 
the  age  of  one-and-twenty  you  will  make,  the  old 
cot  your  home,  and  give  to  your  mother  your  pres- 
ence and  your  care.  Surely,  you  will  not  refuse  me 
this.  Margery  has  been  a  faithful  wife  to  me,  and  I 


8  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

shall  feel  death  robbed  of  much  of  its  terror  in  the 
knowledge  that  she  is  not  to  be  left  alone." 

Percy  saw  very  plainly  the  hand  of  his  mother  in 
this.  He  knew,  as  though  he  had  heard  her,  that 
she  had  put  that  request  into  his  father's  mouth,  and 
had  urged  him  to  press  it  strongly. 

But,  under  any  circumstances,  he  would  not  have 
refused.  He  had  a  deep — a  heartfelt — desire  to  be 
near  the  castle ;  and  in  what  other  way  could  he  so 
surely  attain  that  end? 

If  he  took  a  few  seconds  for  thought  before  he 
answered,  it  was  not  with  the  appearance  of  hesi- 
tation. When  he  spoke,  not  only  were  his  tones 
frank  and  hearty,  but  the  warm,  loving  light  in  his 
handsome  face  told  her  that  he  was  sincere. 

"leather,  I  will  do  what  you  ask,  provided,  of 
course,  that  no  unforeseen  event  beyond  my  power 
to  overcome  shall  interpose  to  prevent  it." 

"That  is  understood,  of  course,  and  I  thank  you, 
my  boy — I  thank  you  from  my  heart.  I  shall  die 
esaier  in  the  assurance  that  Margery  is  to  have  the 
tender,  loving  care  of  our  son  after  I  am  gone. 
And  now,  Percy,  to  my  second  request." 

He  paused  for  a  little  time,  while  his  wife  arose 
and  went  into  the  room  adjoining,  returning  pres- 
ently with  a  phial  and  a  glass. 

She  prepared  for  the  sufferer  a  potion  which  one 
of  the  physicians  had  prescribed,  and  he  drank 
it,  experiencing  therefrom  temporary  relief  and 
strength. 

"Percy,  are  you  aware  of  the  fact  that  when  I  am 


OUR  HERO  MAKES  TWO  PROMISES.      9 

dead  and  gone  that  you  will  be  the  only  living 
man  who  can  safely  run  our  brig  into  the  Cove?" 

"Rodney  can  do  it,  father,"  the  youth  replied, 
with  much  surprise. 

"No,  no,  he  cannot.  The  last  time  in  I  gave  up 
the  command  to  him  when  we  were  about  a  mile 
outside  Hood's  Island ;  and,  if  you  will  believe  me, 
we  came  within  an  ace  of  losing  the  old  Staghound ; 
and,  most  likely,  losing  a  few  of  ourselves  as  well. 
While  I  was  looking  in  another  direction,  never 
dreaming  of  danger,  we  were  within  a  dozen  fathoms 
of  the  northern  point  of  Dead  Man's  Reef!  Yes, 
my  boy,  had  I  been  ten  seconds  later  no  power  on 
earth  could  have  saved  us.  Poor  old  Donald !  He 
said  he  had  no  idea  the  reef  made  up  so  far. 

"Perhaps  I  have  been  wrong.  I  have  kept  our 
secret  too  close  for  my  own  good.  You  learned  the 
course  almost  by  instinct.  By  the  way — didn't  you 
tell  me  that  you  had  discovered  a  safe  channel  some 
where  about  midway  of  that  reef?" 

"Yes,  father,  I  found  it  last  spring.  It  is  just  about 
midway  between  the  southern  headland  of  the  bay 
and  the  northern  extremity  of  the  reef.  I  took 
soundings,  and  got  all  the  necessary  bearings  for 
coming  in.  There  are  no  reliable  bearings  by  which 
to  run  out." 

"They're  not  needful,  boy.  But  the  time  may 
come  when  that  way  of  running  in  may  be  of  use. 
My  soul !  it  doesn't  seem  possible.  I  wouldn't  have 
believed  that  a  course  through  that  reef  could  have 
been  found  for  a  fair  sized  barge,  let  alone  a  brig. 


10  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

But,  my  dear  boy,  this  isn't  getting  on  with  business, 
and  I  feel  that  my  voice  is  giving  out." 

"Yes,  father — your  second  request.  Has  it  to  do 
with  piloting  the  brig?" 

"Yes,  Percy.  I  want  you  to  give  me  your  promise 
that,  while  you  find  a  home  here  in  the  old  cottage, 
you  will  pilot  the  brig  in  whenever  you  are  asked  to 
do  so.  As  you  know,  we  have  other  havens.  For 
the  year  to  come  she  may  not  have  occasion  to  run 
in  here  more  than  once  or  twice.  This  is  the 
refuge  when  the  king's  cruisers  are  at  our  heels.  On 
other  occasions  we  come  here  but  seldom." 

"Of  course,"  said  the  youth,  until  I  can  teach 
others  how  to  find  the  true  course,  I  will  find  it  for 
them ;  but,  when  I  shall  have  taught  Rodney,  he 
can,  in  turn,  teach  others — 

"Ah !  my  boy,"  interrupted  the  chief,  "the  teach- 
ing of  others  is  the  very  thing  we  wish  to  avoid. 
You  and  Rodney  will  be  enough.  Surely,  you  can 
do  that  for  the  old  crew  after  I  am  gone." 

"Enough,  father.  I  give  you  the  promise. 
While  I  shall  remain  here — say  till  I  am  twenty-one 
• — whenever  I  shall  receive  due  notice  that  the  brig 
is  outside,  or  is  expected,  and  that  I  am  wanted  to 
pilot  her  in,  I  will  take  my  boat  and  find  her." 

"Bless  you,  Percy !  Bless  you  !  I  have  no  more 
to  ask.  I  shall  die  with  less  of  regret  now  that  I 
have  those  two  pledges  from  you." 

"Father,"  said  the  boy,  after  a  time  of  silence, 
during  which  Margery  had  given  her  husband 
another  dose  of  medicine,  "who  is  that  young  fellow 


OUR  HERO  MAKES   TWO  PROMISES.  II 

that  his  made  two  or  three  runs  with  you  to  the 
French  coast — Ralph  Tryon,  I  heard  Rodney  call 
him?" 

"Oh"  returned  the  failing  chief,  with  a  dubious 
motion  of  the  head,  "he's  nobody  that  you  care 
about." 

"But — you  can  tell  me  who  he  is — where  he  came 
from — or — or — " 

"Percy!  Don't  you  see?  Your  father  is  suffer- 
ing." 

It  was  Margery  who  had  thus  interfered.  The 
dying  man  would  have  checked  her,  but  his  voice 
failed  him,  and  he  sank  back  on  the  pillow  with  a  moan 
of  pain.  Sank  back  and  lifted  not  his  head  again ; 
neither  did  he  speak  any  more.  Half  an  hour  later 
the  son  was  kneeling  by  the  bedside  in  devout 
prayer,  while  the  bereaved  wife,  now  widowed,  wept 
in  the  first  great  sorrow  of  her  life. 

The  second  scene  is  at  the  castle,  where  there  is  a 
bed  on  which  lies  one  dying. 

It  is  now  November.  In  the  early  springtime  Sir 
William  Chester  had  come  to  Allerdale  Castle  in 
failing  health,  bringing  with  him  his  only  child,  Cor- 
delia, a  girl  of  twelve  years  and  little  more. 

She  was  all  that  was  left  to  him  of  his  own  blood 
to  care  for  and  to  love.  His  wife  had  died  several 
years  before  in  India,  where  he  was  employed  by 
the  government. 

His  parents  had  both  died  during  his  youth,  and 
brother  or  sister  he  never  had.  Neither  had  he  an 
uncle  or  an  own  cousin.  An  aunt  by  marriage  he 


12  THE  SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

possibly  may  have  had,  but  were  she  living  she 
could  be  nothing  to  him. 

Thomas  Brandon,  Earl  of  Allerdale,  had  reached 
the  age  of  sixty-four,  a  hale  hearty  old  man,  seem- 
ingly as  strong  and  vigorous  as  ever. 

He  was  a  handsome  man,  tall  and  strong,  with  a 
full,  broad  chest ;  his  limbs  shapely  and  muscular, 
with  a  step  as  firm  and  light  as  that  of  youth. 

He  had  a  grand  head,  covered  with  snow-white 
hair,  and  a  strongly  marked  face  that  retained 
much — very  much — of  its  old-time  beauty,  for  Tom 
Brandon,  when  he  had  been  simple  Lord  Oakleigh, 
had  been  accounted  one  of  the  handsomest  men  of 
his  time. 

The  earl  was  but  little  better  off  in  the  way  of 
kindred  than  was  his  guest.  He  had  a  son  and  a 
grandson,  and  that  completed  the  list. 

His  wife  had  died  while  he  was  still  young,  leaving 
him  with  one  child,  and  he  had  never  married  again. 

His  son  George,  Lord  Oakleigh,  was  absent  in 
India.  From  him  Sir  William  had  come  when  he 
first  appeared  at  the  castle.  George  Brandon  and 
William  Chester  were  very  nearly  of  the  same  age. 
The  former  was  forty-six,  the  later  one  year  younger. 

They  had  been  friendly  in  youth,  had  been  class- 
mates at  college,  and  had  been  much  together  in 
after  life. 

In  India  they  had  been  like  brothers,  a  common 
misfortune,  or  calamity,  having  cemented  the 
bonds  of  their  union  more  firmly  and  more  closely 
than  ever  before. 


OUR  HERO  MAKES   TWO  PROMISES.  13 

It  was  the  death  of  their  wives.  They  had  resided 
beneath  the  same  roof  in  Calcutta.  There  Lady 
Chester  had  been  taken  down  with  fever,  and  Lady 
Brandon  had  helped  to  nurse  her. 

Suffice  it  to  say,  both  had  the  fever,  and  both 
died.  Sir  William  was  left  with  his  little  Cordelia, 
then  only  ten ;  Lord  Oakleigh  being  left  with  a  son 
three  years  older. 

A  few  months  after  the  sad  bereavement  Lord 
Oakleigh  sent  his  son  Matthew  home  to  England,  to 
the  care  of  his  father,  the  earl  having  written  out  an 
earnest  request  that  it  should  be  so  done. 

The  boy  had  arrived  safely,  and  from  that  time 
had  been  his  grandfather's  charge. 

Little  more  than  a  year  later  Sir  William  had  be- 
gun to  feel  that  his  failing  health  betokened  some- 
thing serious.  He  was  convinced  that  he  should 
never  recover  in  India. 

He  considered  a  perfect  recovery  impossible ;  but, 
were  he  to  seek  his  native  land,  he  might  gain  a  few 
more  years  of  life. 

So,  towards  the  close  of  the  year,  he  had  made 
his  arrangements  for  returning  home.  Said  Lord 
Oakleigh,  after  the  thing  had  been  settled,  and  the 
baronet  had  packed  up : 

"You  say  you  have  no  settled  home  in  England. 
Your  family  estate — the  home  of  your  ancestors — 
Leyburn  Abbey,  with  its  park  and  forest,  you  have 
leased  for  a  term  of  years ;  and,  of  course,  you  can 
not  push  your  tenant  out,  if  he  wishes  to  remain, 
which  we  know  he  does.  So,  my  dear  Willie,  do 


14  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

you  make  your  way  to  Allerdale,  and  there  cast 
anchor.  My  father  will  be  delighted  to  see  you — 
delighted  to  hear  from  me— and  a  thousand  times 
delighted  when  you  tell  him  you  have  come  to  make 
a  good  long  stop  with  him.  There  your  little  Cor- 
delia will  have  my  boy  Matt  to  play  with ;  and,  fur- 
ther, the  young  hero  will  be  old  enough  and  strong 
enough  to  have  a  care  for  her.  Tell  me — promise 
me — it  shall  be  so." 

When  Sir  William  had  finally  given  the  re- 
quired promise  he  had  a  request  to  make  on  his  own 
account.  He  made  it  thus : 

"George,  I  am  a  sicker  man  than  you  think.  Should 
it  prove  in  the  end  that  I  am  going  to  England  only 
to  die,  I  wish  to  leave  my  child  in  your  charge. 
You  will  be  her  guardian.  Promise  me  that." 

At  first  George  Brandon  had  been  unwilling  to 
listen  to  any  such  thing  as  his  friend's  dying;  but, 
at  length,  when  the  baronet  had  pushed  him  into  a 
corner,  he  had  replied : 

"Look  ye,  William,  you  are  going  to  Allerdale. 
That  is  settled.  If  you  are  to  die,  as  you  seem 
to  think  may  be  possible,  you  will  die  there.  If 
that  is  to  be,  let  my  father  be  your  daughter's  guar- 
dian. She  could  not  have  a  better.  You  can  ar- 
range with  him,  if  you  please,  that  should  he  die 
while  Cordelia  is  under  age  and  I  should  survive 
him,  he  may  transfer  the  authority  to  me.  Under 
such  circumstances  I  should  assume  the  duties  most 
cheerfully,  though  with  sad  remembrance.  How- 
ever, my  father  is  a  hale  and  hearty  man,  and  comes 


A  NEW  LORD.  1 5 

of  a  long-lived  stock.  I  am  very  sure,  barring  acci- 
dents, that  he  will  live  to  see  your  daughter  married." 

So  Sir  William  had  left  India  with  the  under- 
standing that  if  a  guardian  should  be  required  for 
his  child  the  old  earl  should  be  the  man. 

Once  Lord  Oakleigh  had  let  fall  the  remark  that 
it  might  be  a  pleasant  thing  in  the  future  that  their 
children  should  become  united  in  marriage ;  but  Sir 
William  had  made  no  response. 

Perhaps  he  felt  that  it  was  too  early  to  be  thinking 
of  marriage  for  his  little  pet,  and  it  is  not  impossible 
that  he  preferred  to  wait  a  few  years  and  see  what 
sort  of  a  husband  his  friend's  son  gave  promise  of 
making. 

That  was  the  first  and  the  last  word  ever  spoken 
between  Lord  Oakleigh  and  Sir  William  Chester  re- 
garding the  marriage  of  their  children ;  but  it  was 
not  the  last  of  the  subject,  as  we  shall  see  anon. 


CHAPTER  II. 

A  NEW  LORD. 

SIR  WILLIAM  CHESTER  came  home  to  England  to 
die.  He  had  felt  it  when  leaving  India ;  he  had  felt 
it  on  the  voyage,  and  he  had  become  assured  of  it 
ere  long  after  he  had  reached  the  fatherland. 

He  had  made  no  movement  towards  ejecting  his 
tenant  from  Leyburn  Abbey.  He  had  found  rest 
and  shelter  at  Allerdale,  and  had  very  soon  come 
to  love  the  old  earl  as  he  would  have  loved  a  father. 


1 6  THE  SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

And  the  earl  had  quickly  learned  to  love  him.  It 
had  not  needed  the  good  word  of  his  son.  His  own 
heart  had  found  the  lovable  man ;  and  love  had  been 
given  without  stint. 

And  the  little  Cordelia,  now  completing  her 
twelfth  year — she  was  like  a  ray  of  blessed  sunlight 
in  the  old  castle. 

She  was  a  plump  little  thing,  bright  and  winsome, 
her  silken  locks  giving  promise  of  a  rich  golden 
brown ;  her  large  gray  eyes,  like  twin  stars,  full  of 
laughter  and  full  of  warm,  impulsive  love. 

Where  she  loved  she  would  love  with  all  her  heart ; 
and  strange  as  it  may  appear,  her  first  and  warmest 
love  was  given  to  the  old  earl — "Gran'pa,"  she  called 
him,  with  her  two  dimpled  arms  round  his  neck  and 
her  rosy  lips  pressed  upon  his  cheek. 

And  the  love  that  Lord  Allerdale  gave  to  the 
bright-faced  little  girl  became  part  of  his  very  life. 
He  could  not,  after  a  time,  bear  to  have  her  away 
from  him. 

He  held  her  on  his  knee ;  he  carried  her  in  his 
arms ;  he  led  her  in  the  court  and  in  the  park,  and 
he  played  with  her;  in  short,  in  her  society  he  re- 
newed, not  his  youth,  but  his  very  childhood.  What 
a  happy  old  man  he  was  when  the  little  child  had 
him  in  full  subjection. 

Lord  Oakleigh  had  spoken  of  another  as  the  pro- 
spective playmate  of  Cordelia — his  son,  Matthew. 

And  Matthew  Brandon  played  with  her  often, 
though  she  would  always  leave  him  for  the  compan- 
ionship of  his  grandfather. 


A   NEW  LORD.  1 7 

Matthew  Brandon  was  now  entering  his  sixteenth 
years — just  the  age  of  the  smuggler's  son.  He  was 
not  what  would  be  called  a  handsome  boy. 

His  complexoin  was  dark;  his  hair  intensely 
black ;  and  his  eyes,  deeply  set  in  their  sockets,  were 
small,  with  an  unusually  narrow  space  between  them. 

His  face  was  not  a  mirror  of  frankness ;  and  the 
servants  were  painfully  aware  of  two  lamentable 
facts :  First,  he  could  be  cruel  and  vengeful ;  and 
second,  he  could  lie.  Of  this,  however,  his  grand- 
father was  ignorant. 

The  servants  loved  him  too  well  to  pain  him  by 
the  telling,  while  the  boy  was  wise  and  wary  enough 
to  hide  his  darker  side  from  those  who  had  author- 
ity to  punish. 

On  the  same  November  day  that  saw  the  smuggler 
chief  lay  dying  in  the  stone  cottage  by  the  Cove,  Sir 
William  Chester  lay  dying  in  one  of  the  tapestried 
chambers  of  Allerdale  Castle. 

He  had  sent  for  Matthew,  and  the  boy  had  come — 
had  come  reluctantly  enough  from  the  making  of  a 
rabbit-trap. 

With  his  failing  hand  on  the  lad's  head,  Sir 
William  told  him  of  his  father — told  him  what  a 
good,  true  and  loyal  man  he  was. 

"And  may  I  not  hope,  my  boy,  that  you  will  grow 
up  to  be  like  him?  You  don't  know  how  dearly  he 
loves  you  ;  how  proud  he  is  of  his  son ;  nor  do  you 
realize  how  much  of  his  joy  and  gladness  in  the 
future  is  dependent  upon  your  success  in  life.  Oh! 
Matthew !  Matthew !  Will  you  not  strive,  with  all 


1 8  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

your  might,  to  make  your  father  happy  and  blessed? 
You  can  do  it.  Let  him  know  that  his  beloved  boy 
is  good  and  true,  and  honest,  and  kind  of  heart — let 
him  know  this,  and  he  will  be  as  happy  as  a  man 
can  be.  You  will  try,  won't  you?" 

The  boy  kicked  at  the  carpet  with  his  foot ;  he 
gazed  out  at  a  neighboring  window;  gazed  every- 
where save  into  the  watchful  eyes  of  the  speaker. 

At  length,  when  the  baronet  had  finished  what  he 
had  to  say,  Master  Matthew  grunted  out  a  dubious — 
"Yes — I  s'pose  so" — and  speedily  thereafter  sought 
his  trap. 

After  this  the  baronet  called  his  little  daughter  to 
his  bedside ;  and  when  he  had  kissed  her  he  fancied 
that  he  saw  a  cloud  on  her  open  brow  and  a  look  of 
disappointment  in  her  bright  eyes. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  my  darling?"  he  asked, 
drawing  her  head  down  upon  his  pillow. 

And  pretty  soon  it  came  out.  Percy  had  prom- 
ised her  that  he  would  come  up  that  afternoon  and 
help  her  in  her  lessons. 

Practically  he  had  become  her  teacher,  and  she 
looked  forward  to  his  coming  with  so  much  of  eager- 
ness that  failure  on  his  part  became  to  her  a  bitter 
disappointment. 

"Well,  well,  little  pet,  do  not  worry.  He  may 
come  yet." 

"No,  no,  papa,  he  cannot  come.  His  papa  is  sick, 
and  is  dying !  Oh !  think  of  it !  He  will  never  have 
a  papa  any  more.  Dear  papa !  you  won't  die,  will 
you?  Oh,  tell  me  that  you  will  not !" 


A   NEW  LORD.  19 

A  convulsion  shook  the  dying  man  from  head  to 
foot.  He  had  spoken  to  his  child  of  death,  had 
sought  to  accustom  her  to  the  thought ;  but  not 
yet  had  he  told  her  that  he  was  surely  leaving  her. 

He  could  not  do  it  now — could  not  tell  her  that 
he  was  dying;  but  he  told  her  she  must  be  brave  and 
strong ;  and  she  must  remember  that,  even  though  he 
should  be  taken  from  her,  she  would  have  her  dear 
grandpa  left,  who  would  love  her  always. 

With  regard  to  Percy,  of  whom  his  daughter  had 
spoken,the  baronet  had  no  fixed  thoughts  of  any  kind. 
He  knew  the  boy — knew  him  to  be  the  son  of 
a  man  who  was  said  to  be  a  noted  smuggler;  but, 
somehow,  the  idea  of  smuggling,  as  an  offence,  did 
not  strike  him  with  anything  akin  to  horror. 

On  the  contrary,  he  thought  of  it  without  pain  and 
even  without  bitterness.  Though  he  would  not  have 
willingly  admitted  a  smuggler  to  his  friendship,  he 
would  not  make  war  against  him.  And,  further,  he 
would  not  visit  the  sins  of  the  father  upon  the  head 
of  the  child. 

He  had  met  Percy  Maitland,  and  had  spoken 
with  him,  and  had  been  most  agreeably  surprised  by 
the  beauty  of  person,  and  his  evident  beauty  and 
purity  of  mind. 

He  had  seen  enough  of  the  boy  to  feel  assured 
that  the  errors  of  the  sire  had  not  in  the  least  given 
taint  to  the  son. 

Another  thing  had  wrought  somewhat  upon  Sir 
William's  mind  with  regard  to  Percy  Maitland. 
When  he  had  become  acquainted  with  him,  the  first 


20  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

thought  that  came  to  him  thereafter  found  vent  in 
these  words,  spoken  aloud,  to  himself: 

"Oh,  what  would  I  give  if  Matthew  could  be  like 
that  boy !  What  a  blessing  he  might  be  to  his 
father!  What  a  blessing  to  us  all !" 

He  knew  that  during  the  summer  Cordelia  had 
become  not  only  acquainted,  but  intimate  with  the 
smuggler's  son.  One  day  the  little  pet  had  sur- 
prised her  father  by  asking  him  a  question  in  very 
good  French. 

"For  mercy's  sake!  where  did  you  learn  that?"  he 
had  asked  her. 

"Ho!  Percy  taught  me;  and  he  is  going  to  teach 
me  to  read  French.  Won't  it  be  nice?" 

And  the  baronet  had  suffered  it  to  go  on.  It  was 
enough  for  him  that  his  child  was  the  happier  for 
this  friendship ;  and,  further,  that  under  its  influence 
she  was  really  improving. 

She  was  learning  rapidly.  Of  danger  in  the  future 
he  never  thought. 

As  the  day  drew  towards  its  close  Sir  William 
found  himself  alone  with  the  earl.  The  legal  steps 
necessary  towards  constituting  the  latter  guardian 
of  the  child,  with  full  authority,  had  all  been  taken, 
and  it  only  remained  for  him  to  give  such  instruc- 
tions as  he  had  to  give. 

The  papers  had  been  filled  out,  signed,  sealed  and 
witnessed  some  time  before,  and  the  earl  had  them  in 
his  possession,  ready  to  act  when  the  time  should 
come. 

"Lord  Allerdale,"  said  the  baronet,  when  all  pre- 


A  NEW  LORD.  21 

liminary  matters  had  been  disposed  of.  "I  shall  not 
see  the  light  of  another  day.  You  know  that." 

"I  suppose,"  replied  the  earl,  with  a  faint,  fleet- 
ing smile,  "if  I  would  be  in  the  fashion  I  ought  to 
declare  that  I  do  not  know  any  such  thing ;  but  alas ! 
I  know  it  but  too  well.  Still,  I  will  give  you  more 
time  than  that.  You  shall  not  leave  us  to-night,  nor 
yet  to-morrow.  No,  no — we  must  keep  you  for  days 
to  come,  if  not  for  weeks." 

"Well,  well,"  rejoined  the  invalid,  quickly,  "be  sure 
I  will  live  if  I  can ;  but  we  will  be  on  the  safe  side. 
The  few  directions  I  have  to  give  you  I  will  give 
you  now,  and  then  the  end  may  come  when  it  will. 
It  will  find  us  prepared." 

"You  are  right  in  that,  William.  What  you  have 
to  say  to  me  I  would  have  you  say  at  once.  And  I 
am  anxious  to  know  your  wishes.  Remember,  you 
have  given  your  child  into  my  care  and  keeping;  and, 
though  you  have  confidence  in  my  judgment,  yet 
I  would  have  from  you  certain  directions  for  my 
guidance." 

"I  have  confidence  in  your  judgment,  my  lord," 
said  the  baronet,  with  a  warm  light  in  his  failing 
eyes,  "but  it  is  in  your  great  love — in  the  goodness 
of  your  heart — that  I  most  hopefully  trust,  for  I 
know  you  will  love  my  darling  when  I  am  gone.  I 
know  it." 

"Love  her!"  repeated  the  old  man,  the  tones 
seeming  to  come  from  the  profoundest  depths  of  his 
heart,  "I  shall  love  her  now — as  a  bright  angel, 
given  to  bless  and  brighten  and  beautify  the  evening 


22  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

of  my  life !  Oh  !  I  have  no  words  that  can  tell  my 
love  for  the  little  seraph." 

For  a  time  both  the  men  gave  way  to  their  feelings 
in  silence.  At  length  the  baronet  broke  the  spell. 

"My  lord,  you  have  spoken  of  directions  from  me. 
I  have  one  or  two  to  give  you,  and  that  is  all. 
And  here  let  us  speak  frankly.  The  time  was  when, 
I  know,  your  son  had  a  wish  that  his  boy  and  my 
little  girl  should  grow  up  to  become  husband  and 
wife.  Perhaps,  at  one  time,  I  may  have  had  some 
such  thought ;  but,  with  my  present  light,  I  certain- 
ly cannot  wish  it.  Matthew  must  grow  up  to  be  a 
different  man  from  what  he  now  gives  promise  of 
being  if  he  would  look  upon  my  daughter  with  the 
thought  of  making  her  his  wife.  Surely,  my  lord, 
you  will  agree  with  me,  in  this?" 

"Yes,  yes,  Sir  William,  I  do,  certainly,"  the  earl 
answered  sadly.  "I  have  often  wished  that  Matthew 
was  different ;  and  I  have  never  held  the  wish  so 
deeply  as  I  have  done  since  I  have  known  your  dar- 
ling. Oh  !  if  the  boy  were  worthy  of  her  how  happy 
we  all  might  be !  But,  who  shall  say  what  may  hap- 
pen? He  is  young  yet.  What  he  may  be  when  he 
shall  have  grown  to  manhood  we  can  not  tell." 

"That  is  so,"  nodded  the  baronet  thoughtfully. 
After  a  little  pause  he  added :  "But,  my  lord,  you 
will  promise  me,  unless  Matthew  shall  be  truly 
worthy — in  every  way  a  good  and  reliable  man — you 
will  not  allow  him  to  offer  love  to  Cordelia?" 

"Yes,  William,  I  promise  that.  But  the  promise 
was  not  needed.  The  good  of  your  child  will  be  to 


A  NEW  LORD.  23 

me  as  precious  and  as  eagerly  cared  for  as  my  own 
life  could  be." 

"Another  promise  I  would  have,  my  lord ;  Cor- 
delia shall  never  be  urged  to  marry  against  her  will. 
Oh !  what  misery  have  I  seen  from  that  cause !  A 
marriage  without  love !  It  is  a  sin — a  crime  against 
common  humanity,  if  not  against  heaven !  Let  my 
child  be  reared  as  I  know  you  will  rear  her,  and  her 
own  heart  will  be  the  safest,  surest  guide  to  happi- 
ness and  peace  in  the  future." 

"Sir  William,"  the  old  man  replied,  with  deep 
feeling,  "I  give  you  that  promise  from  my  heart. 
Your  sweet  child  shall  never,  with  my  consent  be 
asked  to  wed  without  love  If  I  had  a  daughter  of 
my  own,  it  should  be  my  chief  desire — I  may  say, 
the  end  and  aim  of  my  life,  to  make  her  happy.  I 
would  keep  her  pure,  and  good  and  true ;  being  well 
assured  that  in  her  blessedness  my  own  greatest 
blessing  of  life  would  be  found  And,  my  dear  son — 
for  you  are  as  a  son  to  me — I  will  do  by  your 
daughter  as  I  would  by  a  daughter  of  my  own." 

Sir  William  murmured  a  few  words  in  grateful  re- 
sponse; but  they  were  not  needed.  His  tears,  and 
the  impulsive  grasp  of  his  feeble  hand,  spoke  louder 
than  any  words  could  have  done. 

"Dear  father,"  the  sick  man  said,  breaking  in 
upon  a  silence  that  lasted  a  full  minute,  he  still  held 
the  earl's  hand,  not  having  relinquished  it  since  he 
had  caught  it  in  his  impulse  of  gratitude.  "My 
dear  father,  if  I  may  call  you  so — 

"Never  call  me  by  any  other    name,"  the  aged 


24  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

nobleman  interposed.  He  gazed  for  a  few  seconds 
into  the  pale,  wan  face  upon  the  pillow,  tears  start- 
ing from  his  eyes  while  he  did  so ;  and  then  resumed  : 
"William,  my  son,  I  know  not  why  it  is,  but  it  is  a 
fact  nevertheless,  a  fact  that  you  have  won  a  place 
in  my  heart  close  by  the  side  of  my  own  noble  boy. 
Ah !  you  know  I  may  call  him  noble." 

"I  never  knew  a  nobler  man,"  the  baronet  respond- 
ed quickly. 

"Bless  you !"  the  earl  went  on,  two  big  tears 
starting  down  his  ruddy  cheeks  as  he  spoke. 

"I  was  saying  that  I  could  not  understand  it.  I 
cannot  quite  understand  the  way  and  manner  in 
which  my  heart  has  gone  out  to  you.  It  is  not  that 
I  love  you.  No,  no.  I  could  not  have  helped 
doing  that  had  I  tried.  No ;  the  mystery  is  this.  In 
losing  you  or  in  contemplating  your  loss,  I  feel  as 
though  I  were  losing  my  all  of  life.  Little  Cordelia 
will  be  my  only  love." 

"My  lord!     Do  you  forget  your  son?"    . 

The  old  man  shook  his  head  with  dubious  look 
and  motion,  while  a  shadow  that  told  of  pain  rested 
on  his  face. 

"No,"  he  answered,  "I  think  of  him  continually." 
He  paused  a  moment,  and  then  abruptly  asked  : 
"William,  are  you  inclined  to  laugh  at  presenti- 
ments?" 

"No,  my  lord,  far  from  -it.  I  have  had  presenti- 
ments of  my  own  that  were  later  fulfilled  to  the  let- 
ter." 

"Chester,  you  speak  of  my  son.     It  is  a  presenti- 


A  NEW  LORD.  25 

ment  I  have  in  relation  to  him  that  has  drawn  my 
heart  so  closely  to  yourself.  Something  tells  me  I 
shall  see  him  never  again  on  earth.  It  is  not  the 
result  of  a  dream ;  it  is  not  a  weird  fancy ;  it  has 
come  to  me  like  a  revelation,  and  1  cannot  put 
it  away.  But  let  it  pass.  I  will  not  darken  your 
last  hours  of  life  with  my  gloomsome  forebodings. 
Had  you  not  another  request  to  make  of  me  in 
relation  to  your  child?" 

The  baronet  had  evidently  thought  to  combat  the 
unhappy  presentiment  of  his  old  friend,  but  when 
that  friend  had  himself  proposed  that  the  subject  be 
dropped  he  had  no  desire  to  reopen  it.  To  the  last 
question  he  replied,  after  a  little  reflection  : 

"Yes,  my  lord,  there  is  one  other  subject  upon 
which  I  wish  to  speak.  I  believe  my  worldly  affairs 
— affairs  of  property — are  all  settled.  My  agent  at 
Leyburn  will  account  to  you  annually  in  the  matter 
of  rents.  The  amount  will  be  from  £1 5,000  to 
;£  1 8,000  a  year.  Something  must  be  allowed  for 
repairs  and  improvements.  That  agent,  I  think,  is 
strictly  honest ;  yet  it  may  be  well  for  you  to  have 
an  eye  on  the  estate  for  yourself.  The  distance  is 
not  great.  You  can  go  and  return,  with  plenty  of 
time  for  business,  in  two  days,  with  only  one  night 
away  from  your  home. 

"My  bank  account  will  give  you  £10,000  more,  as 
it  now  stands.  Of  course  you  will  be  adding  to  it 
from  the  returns  of  the  agent.  Thus  you  will  see,  I 
shall  leave  behind  for  my  child  an  annual  income  of 
at  least  £25,000." 


26  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

"And  you  would  request  me  to  look  after  this?" 
broke  in  the  earl,  with  a  surprise  which  he  did  not 
attempt  to  hide.  "My  dear  Sir  William,  do  you 
suppose — " 

"My  lord!  My  dear  father — !"  cried  the  baronet, 
as  soon  as  he  could  gain  the  power  of  speech — for 
his  powers  were  failing  rapidly,  "how  could  you 
mistake  me?  Bless  my  soul!  I  should  as  soon 
have  thought  of  asking  you  to  be  kind  and  merciful 
to  little  Cordelia !  Oh !  no,  no  :  I  will  tell  you  what 
I  had  to  ask,  and  I  pointed  out  the  sum  and  sub- 
stance of  the  dear  one's  wealth  to  show  that  my 
request  was  reasonable— that  the  cost  would  not 
stand  in  the  way  of  its  fulfillment. 

"My  lord — listen:  It  is  my  earnest  desire  that 
my  child  shall  never  be  sent  away  from  your  imme- 
diate care — never  from  your  castle  while  you  find 
home  in  it — never  away  from  your  daily  loving 
sight — for  the  purpose  of  attending  any  school. 
She  can  have  tutors  here ;  and  she  shall  be  taught 
whatever  she  desires  to  know." 

And  he  then  went  on  to  enumerate  the  more 
important  branches  of  education  that  had  occurred 
to  him.  In  the  end,  said  the  earl,  holding  his 
friend's  hand  while  he  spoke: 

"My  dear  William,  it  shall  be  as  you  have  said; 
and,  I  may  add,  it  would  have  been  so  if  you  had 
not  spoken.  Expense!  Pshaw!  Why  bless  and 
save  us!  I  can't  spend  the  twentieth  part  of  my 
income  in  the  ordinary  way  of  living.  If  I  spend  a 
portion  of  it  for  the  good  of  our  little  cherub,  I  shall 


A  NEW  LORD.  27 

be  happy.  However,  that  is  all  understood.  And 
now,  is  there  not  something  more?" 

"No,  I  think  of  nothing,     It  is  growing  dark." 

"Yes;  the  sun  is  near  its  setting." 

"Near  its  setting?  What  do  you  mean?  It  must 
have  set  long  ago." 

"Certainly  not.  Open  your  eyes — there.  Do 
you  see  where  the  sunbeams  fall  upon  the  wainscot, 
near  the  door?" 

The  baronet  turned  his  face  in  the  direction 
pointed  out  and  shook  his  head  in  disappointment. 

"I  can  not  see  it.     It  is  dark — dark.     My  lord." 

"Here,  William.  What  is  it?"  Thus  speaking, 
the  earl  moved  softly  back  to  the  bedside  and  took 
the  baronet's  thin,  cold  hand  in  his  own  warm 
grasp.  "Have  you  something  more  to  say?" 

Chester  looked  up  half  vacantly  but  with  an  ex- 
pression of  eagerness  not  to  be  mistaken. 

"Yes.     Sit  down,  my  lord." 

"I  am  sitting.     Do  you  not  see?" 

"Not  plainly;  but  I  can  feel  your  hand."  He 
paused  here,  and  for  a  brief  space  seemed  buried  in 
profound  thought.  At  length  he  turned  the  poor 
sightless  eyes  once  more  toward  his  host,  and  went 
on,  with  deep  and  anxious  feeling : 

"Lord  Allerdale,  will  you  tell  me  what  is  your 
plan  in  regard  to  Matthew.  Is  he  to  live  here 
always  with  you?" 

"Would  it  give  you  relief  if  I  should  answer  you 
in  the  negative?" 

"Oh !  my  lord !     Do   not  think   I  would  seek  to 


28  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

drive  the  boy  from  his  proper  home.  No !  no !  no ! 
no !  Yet — yet — you  will  not  allow  him  to — ' 

"Stop !  Stop  where  you  are,  William,  and  let  me 
think  a  little  bit."  With  this  the  earl  took  a  turn 
across  the  room  with  his  head  bowed  and  his  arms 
folded  on  his  breast.  When  he  came  back  his  coun- 
tenance had  cleared  and  a  brighter  look  was  on  his 
face  than  had  been  there  for  a  considerable  time. 

"My  dear  Chester,"  he  said  with  frank  sincerity, 
"within  these  few  moments  last  past  I  have  resolved 
upon  an  important  step.  Matthew  has  for  a  long 
time  been  teasing  me  to  let  him  go  to  school  with  a 
friend  of  his  at  Oxford.  It  is  a  private  establish- 
ment, wherein  youths  are  prepared  for  entering  col- 
lege. I  have  thought  it  all  over,  and  have  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  he  will  be  better  off  there  than 
here.  I  shall  let  him  go." 

Sir  William  tried  to  speak,  but  his  voice  failed 
him.  His  face,  however,  in  the  quick  bright  light 
that  flashed  upon  it,  told  how  much  the  earl's 
speech  had  comforted  him.  He  had  conceived  a 
deep,  harrowing  dread  of  the  influence  of  Matthew 
Brandon  over  his  sweet  child. 

The  sun  had  set  and  the  shades  of  evening  had 
fallen  when  Sir  William  Chester  found  strength  to 
ask  for  his  daughter. 

She  came  and  laid  her  head  beside  his  own  on  the 
pillow.  He  kissed  her  and  breathed  a  whispered 
blessing;  and  shortly  thereafter  the  earl  took  her 
down  into  his  lap. 

A  few  moments  later  the  dying  man  gave  a  sud- 


A  NEW  LORD.  29 

den  start,  and  put  forth  both  his  hands,  as  toward  an 
object  in  the  vacancy  above  him — the  hands,  which 
for  two  hours  and  more  he  had  not  been  able  to  lift 
to  his  lips.  But  they  were  lifted  now,  and  strongly 
upheld ;  and  at  the  same  time  a  celestial  light 
beamed  in  his  eyes,  and  brightened  his  death-white 
face. 

"George !  George !"  he  cried,  in  seeming  ecstasy, 
"I  come!  I  come!  Oh!  this  is  rest!"  And  that 
was  the  last.  His  hands  fell  back  upon  his  hushed 
bosom.  With  those  words  on  his  lips,  and  that 
ecstatic  smile  upon  his  face,  he  died.  But  the 
strangest  part  was  to  come ;  though  the  earl  was 
not  unprepared  for  it.  The  dying  words  of  Sir 
William — the  evident  vision  that  had  called  them 
forth — had  impressed  him  deeply.  He  could  not 
believe  they  had  been  meaningless. 

Four  months  had  passed  after  the  death  of  the 
baronet,  when  word  came  from  India  that  George 
Brandon,  Lord  Oakleigh,  was  dead.  He  had  died 
not  more  than  three  or  four  hours  before  Sir  Will- 
iam Chester  had  breathed  his  last. 

And  thus,  by  one  of  those  curious  dispensations 
of  Providence,  given,  it  would  almost  seem,  on  pur- 
pose to  puzzle  us,  a  boy  in  his  sixteenth  year,  more 
fit  for  the  pillory  than  for  a  title — Matthew  Bran- 
on — had  become  Lord  Oakleigh. 


30  THE   SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

CHAPTER  III. 

OUR  HERO  MEETS  WITH  AN  ADVENTURE. 

Six  years,  lacking  only  the  weeks  from  the  1st  of 
September  to  the  middle  of  November,  have  passed 
since  we  stood  by  the  death-bed  of  Sir  William 
Chester.  The  changes  in  that  time  have  been  many. 
The  death  of  the  earl's  only  son,  Lord  Oakleigh,  is 
already  known  to  us.  The  rest  of  our  friends  are 
still  living. 

The  good  old  earl,  now  at  the  full  age  of  three 
score  and  ten,  is  as  hale  and  hearty  as  ever,  and 
appears  to  be  not  a  whit  nearer  to  the  end  of  his 
endurance.  Moreover,  the  six  years  last  past  have 
been,  on  the  whole,  to  him  years  of  happiness.  His 
grandson  has  given  him  trouble — has  often  caused 
his  heart  to  ache ;  but  the  bright  angel  of  the  house- 
hold— his  ward  Cordelia — has  given  him  joy  and 
gladness  enough  to  make  up  for  all  the  pain  from 
other  sources. 

A  day  that  had  been  fair  and  bright,  of  the  first 
week  of  September,  was  drawing  to  a  close  as  Percy 
Maitland  pulled  his  light,  handsome  skiff  from  the 
waters  of  the  bay  up  into  the  river.  He  kept  on 
until  he  had  reached  a  point  where,  on  the  other 
side,  toward  the  stone  cottage,  a  small  bay  or  inlet 
made  up  into  the  shore.  Into  this  he  turned  his 
boat  and  shortly  after  landed.  And  as  he  now 
stands,  his  broad  full  breast  thrown  well  out  as  he 
drinks  in  the  pure  air,  we  can  examine  him  critically. 


OUR  HERO  MEETS    WITH  AN  ADVENTURE.        31 

We  need  only  say,  however,  that  not  a  promise  of 
his  early  youth  remained  unfulfilled.  He  had  grown 
tall — almost  six  feet — and  muscular  in  porportion ; 
the  symmetry  of  his  form  perfect.  His  hair,  worn 
quite  long,  floated  about  his  head  in  wavy,  shimmer- 
ing masses — not  curling  but  coming  very  near  to  it. 
Its  color  had  deepened  to  a  golden  brown — some 
might  have  called  it  auburn ;  but  whatever  it  was 
called  none  might  dispute  its  poetic  beauty.  His 
eyes  of  the  same  sapphire  blue  as  formerly,  and 
become  brighter  and  more  eloquent — bright  with  in- 
tellect and  eloquent  with  lofty  thought  and  noble  as- 
piration. The  whole  face,  in  taking  on  the  stamp  of 
manhood,  had  increased  in  beauty  as  it  had  grown 
in  strength  and  intelligence. 

His  garb  was  peculiar  to  himself.  He  had  given 
his  measurements  and  directions  to  a  friend  whom 
he  could  trust,  and  his  garments  had,  for  several 
years,  been  made  to  order  in  France.  A  loose, 
easy  frock  of  purple  velvet,  trimmed  lightly  with 
narrow  gold  lace,  so  fitting  as  to  show  his  perfect 
form;  beneath  this  a  vest  of  amber-colored  silk, 
with  silver  buttons ;  then  tights  of  knitted  blue  silk, 
revealing  every  thew  and  sinew  of  his  muscular 
lower  limbs ;  and  on  his  feet  a  pair  of  light  calf-skin 
boots,  with  tops  of  red  morocco.  His  head  was 
protected  by  a  light  blue  velvet  cap,  or  bonnet,  on 
the  left  side  of  which  was  an  eagle's  feather,  secured 
in  place  by  a  brooch  of  gold. 

Could  the  youth  afford  this  style  of  dress?  it  may 
be  asked.  We  will  only  say  in  reply,  his  father  had 


32  THE  SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

left  him  a  goodly  amount  of  gold  which  could  not 
be  taken  from  him,  and  a  few  of  the  old  smugglers 
would  occasionally  force  upon  him  goodly  sums,  not 
only  for  favors  received,  but  in  remembrance  of  the 
old  times,  when  they  had  loved  him  as  a  boy.  And 
they  had  never  ceased  to  love  him. 

Having  secured  his  boat,  the  young  man  stepped 
back  and  took  from  the  stern-sheets  a  willow  basket, 
in  which  were  a  dozen  fine  fish ;  and  then,  with  the 
basket  on  his  arm,  he  took  the  path  that  led  toward 
the  castle.  The  fish  were  intended  for  that  place, 
he  having  promised  the  old  steward  that  he  should 
have  them  before  dark,  provided,  of  course,  that  he 
should  have  the  good  fortune  to  catch  them. 

For  the  distance  of  a  quarter  of  a  mile  the  path 
lay  through  a  thick  wood  and  flanked  the  westerly 
side  of  Allerdale  park.  Half-way  through  this 
wood  the  young  fisherman  had  gone,  when  he  saw, 
coming  toward  him  from  the  direction  of  the  castle, 
a  man  whom  he  would  he  have  avoided  if  the  thing 
had  been  possible.  As  it  was,  he  made  a  movement 
as  though  he  would  step  aside  from  the  path,  but 
the  man  had  seen  him,  and  was  already  upon  the 
point  of  hailing  him.  "Oho  !  Maitland,  you  are  the 
man  I  was  after.  I've  been  searching  for  you  this 
half  hour." 

"Ralph  Tryon !     What  do  you  want  of  me?" 

The  man  whom  Percy  had  thus  named  was  not 
quite  so  tall  as  was  our  hero,  though  he  appeared 
the  heavier  and  more  stocky  of  frame.  His  age 
would  be  a  difficult  matter  for  a  stranger  to  deter- 


OUR  HERO  MEETS    WITH  AN  ADVENTURE.        33 

mine.  He  might  have  been  thirty,  he  might  have 
been  more ;  but,  in  all  probability  he  was  consider- 
ably younger.  His  face  was  more  than  half  covered 
by  a  full,  thick,  coarse,  yellow  beard ;  his  hair,  long 
and  matted,  was  tawny,  like  a  lion's  mane;  while 
two  eyes,  small  and  sunken  but  bright  and  fiery,  were 
decidedly  black  in  color.  His  garb  was  of  the  sea, 
and,  take  him  all  in  all,  he  was  not  a  pleasant  man  to 
look  upon. 

Such  was  the  man,  who,  for  two  years  and  a  little 
more,  had  held  the  office  which  Hugh  Maitland 
had  once  filled — chief  of  the  Smugglers  of  King's 
Cove. 

"You  are  wanted  to  pilot  in  the  Staghound,"  was 
Tryon's  answer  to  Percy's  demand. 

"Pilot  in  the  Staghound !"  repeated  the  youth  in 
blank  surprise.  "Why  don't  you  do  it  yourself?" 

"Because  I  must  go  another  way.  I  have  business 
that  I  can  not  put  aside." 

"Donald  Rodney  is  on  board,  is  he  not?" 

"Yes,  but  he  can  not  run  her  in  safely.  I  would 
not  trust  him,  and  he  dare  not  trust  himself.  No, 
no,  you  must  do  it." 

"But,  you  have  no  right  to  ask  it  of  me.  I  wish 
to  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  the  brig,  in  any 
way  or  shape." 

"Have  a  care,  young  man !  Do  you  forget  your 
promise  to  your  dying  father?" 

"No,"  said  Percy  quickly.  "I  do  not  forget  it. 
For  five  years  and  ten  months  I  kept  it ;  and  then  it 
was  at  an  end.  I  promised  him  that,  until  I  reached 


34  THE  SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

the  age  of  twenty-one,  I  would  perform  that  task 
whenever  called  upon  to  do  so.  The  one-and-twen- 
tieth  anniversary  of  my  birthday  is  past  and  gone ; 
and  I  am  free." 

A  fierce  oath  burst  from  the  smuggler's  lips,  and 
he  was  evidently  upon  the  point  of  launching  forth 
into  threats,  but  common  sense  came  to  his  aid.  He 
was  situated  peculiarly.  The  brig  must  be  brought 
safely  into  her  haven,  for  she  had  beneath  her  hatches 
one  of  the  most  valuable  cargoes  she  had  ever 
carried  and  he  could  not  do  it  without  making  a 
change  in  his  plans  which  he  would  not  make  if  he 
could  possibly  avoid  it. 

"Bah !"  he  exclaimed,  when  he  saw  the  other 
backing  away  from  the  oath  which  he  had,  in  his  hot 
anger,  flung  at  him,  "don't  be  a  fool.  Allow  a  man 
to  spit  out  his  feelings  when  he's  in  a  tight  place, 
can't  ye?  I  didn't  mean  that  oath  for  you,  Percy. 
I  was  swearing  at  my  own  hard  luck.  Look  ye,  it 
will  be  a  dead  loss  to  me  of  more  than  £$oo  if  I 
can't  be  in  Bathgate  to-morrow.  The  brig  will  be 
outside  in  the  early  morning,  and  the  chances  are 
that  a  king's  ship — sloop  of  war — will  be  at  her  heels. 
If  it  was  to  be  a  flood  tide  we  might  trust  Rodney 
to  run  her  in :  but  it  will  be  on  the  ebb,  and  he  is 
shaky.  Come,  come,  Percy,  say  you'll  do  it,  that's 
a  good  fellow!!" 

"Tryon,  I  don't  like  it.  I  thought  my  poor  share 
of  that  business  was  ended." 

The  tawny  chieftain  was  evidently  struggling  with 
all  his  might.  He  could  have  put  a  pistol  bullet 


OUR  HERO  MEETS    WITH  AN  ADVENTURE.        35 

through  young  Maitland's  head  with  keen  relish  or 
a  knife  into  his  bosom ;  but  that  would  not  answer 
his  purpose.  Also,  he  could  have  cursed  and  sworn, 
with  real  enjoyment ;  but  that  would  have  been 
equally  worse  than  useless. 

"Percy,  old  Donald  will  be  looking  for  you. 
Will  you  disappoint  him?  And  think  of  the  other 
friends  you  have  on  board  the  Staghound.  Would 
you  like  to  have  them  nabbed  by  the  king's  officers? 
Oh !  if  I  could  go  I  would ;  but  I  can  not.  It 
would  ruin  me.  Donald  was  sure  you  would  come. 
And  others  were  as  sure  as  he." 

"Where  did  you  leave  the  brig?"     Percy  asked. 

"At  the  old  place — Betty's  Cove — in  the  Ribble. 
A  few  articles  were  to  be  landed  there." 

"What  about  the  sloop  of  war?  Has  she  been 
seen?" 

"Bless  you,  yes.  We  ran  away  from  her,  just  at 
dark  night  before  last.  Donald  will  run  the  brig 
out  to-night,  and  make  his  way  here  under  cover  of 
darkness.  We  know  the  corvette  is  off  the  coast,  and 
keeping  a  sharp  lookout  for  us." 

Percy  stood  for  a  few  moments  in  thought.  For 
the  man  before  him  he  would  not  have  gone  from 
the  promise  he  had  made  himself — a  promise  that 
he  would  never  again  have  any  part  with  the  smug- 
glers. 

Had  the  crew  remained  as  his  father  had  left  it — 
had  Donald  Rodney  been  the  chief,  as  he  should 
have  been — and,  had  they  confined  their  trade  to 
the  simple,  straightforward  course  which  had  been 


36  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE, 

pursued  in  other  years,  under  such  circumstances 
he  might  not  have  refused  his  aid  in  a  time  of  need ; 
but  it  was  different  now. 

There  was  an  atmosphere  about  Frank  Tryon 
which  he  did  not  like ;  something  was  there  that 
aroused  within  him  dark  and  painful  suspicions. 
But — for  this  once — should  he  leave  his  father's  old 
friends  in  the  lurch? 

"Tryon,"  said  he  at  length,  looking  up  and  speak- 
ing shortly  and  crisply,  "do  you  believe  Rodney 
will  ever  learn  to  find  the  channel  to  the  Cove?" 

"Never,  in  the  ebb  tide.  It  isn't  in  him.  He  is 
a  good  sailor,  but  he  could  never  be  a  navigator,  nor 
a  safe  pilot." 

"Have  you  any  one  on  board  the  brig  who  could 
learn?" 

"Yes  I  have  just  the  man." 

"Very  well.  If  I  will  bring  the  vessel  in  this 
time,  will  you  promise  not  to  ask  me  to  do  it 
again?" 

The  man  hesitated.  Evidently  he  did  not  like  to 
give  up  his  hold  on  the  young  man ;  but  a  little 
reflection  told  him  he  must  do  so ;  so  he  did  it  as 
gracefully  as  possible. 

"All  right,"  he  said.  "I  will  set  about  teaching 
my  new  pilot  at  once ;  and  you  shall  not  be  again 
asked  to  do  this  work,  at  least,  not  by  me." 

Percy  promised  that  he  would  run  out  on  the  next 
morning  and  look  for  the  brig,  and  if  he  should  find 
her,  he  would  bring  her  in  arid  then,  with  a  simple 
nod,  he  picked  up  his  basket,  which  he  had  set  upon 


'    OUR  HERO  MEETS   WITH  AN  ADVENTURE.        37 

a  wayside  stone  while  he  had  been  talking,  and 
passed  on. 

The  smuggler  gazed  after  him  with  a  dark  look  in 
his  eyes — a  look  which,  had  the  youth  seen  it,  would 
have  made  him  shudder. 

Once  Percy  looked  back  and  saw  Tryon  just  start- 
ing away  from  the  spot  where  he  left  him,  but  not 
by  the  path.  No,  instead  of  that  he  struck  squarely 
off  into  the  wood,  his  face  toward  the  stone  cottage. 

"He  is  going  to  see  my  mother,"  said  our  hero, 
with  a  tinge  of  bitterness  in  his  voice.  "He  is  there 
oftener  than  I  like."  For  a  time  he  stood  where  he 
had  stopped,  with  his  gaze  fixed  upon  the  spot 
where  the  form  of  the  smuggler  had  last  appeared. 
At  length  he  burst  forth,  at  the  same  time  smiting 
his  free  hand  upon  his  bosom : 

"Oh!  where — where  have  I  seen  that  man? 
Somewhere — somewhere — when  he  was  not  what  he 
is  now !  My  father  knew  him,  and  would  not  tell 
me  who  he  was.  I  wonder  if  my  mother  knows. 
Of  course  she  does.  And  Rodney  must  know.  I 
shall  find  out  somehow.  The  mystery  puzzles  me. 
Aye,  it  frets  me.  There  is  something  uncanny 
about  the  fellow.  There  is  a  piratical  look  about 
him  that  chills  me  to  the  very  core.  But,  let  him 
go.  There  are  pleasanter  things  in  the  world  than 
Ralph  Tryon." 

And  with  this  the  youth  set  forth  once  more  on 
his  way  to  the  castle.  A  few  minutes  saw  him  clear 
of  the  wood,  and  in  fifteen  minutes  more  he  was  at 
the  steward's  door. 


38  THE  SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

Allerdale  Castle  was  a  grand  old  pile.  In  fact  it 
was  both  old  and  new.  A  portion  of  it,  the  main 
walls  and  the  donjon,  together  with  a  portion  of  the 
outbuildings,  were  of  the  time  of  the  Plantagenets ; 
there  was  a  later  structure  of  the  time  of  Elizabeth, 
and  a  wing  of  goodly  dimensions — a  fair-sized  dwell- 
ing of  itself — was  of  modern  build,  having  been  con- 
structed by  the  grandfather  of  the  present  earl  and 
finished  by  his  father. 

"Ah,  Percy !  It's  good  for  one's  eyes  to  see  ye ! 
What's  in  the  basket?  I  hope  ye  haven't  come 
empty  handed,  for  his  lordship  has  made  up  his 
mouth  for  a  fish  breakfast — O-o-oh !  Bless  and  save 
us!  Where  did  ye  take  'em?" 

It  was  the  fat  old  steward,  Michael  Dillon,  who 
had  thus  hailed  the  young  man,  and  who  had  thus 
exclaimed  when  he  had  looked  into  the  basket  and 
espied  the  silvery  treasures  that  filled  it  almost  to 
the  brim. 

"I  took  them  at  the  mouth  of  the  Cove  channel, 
Michael,  the  only  spot  I  know  where  those  mongrel 
salmon  can  be  found.  If  the  earl  don't  find  them  as 
toothsome  as  anything  he  ever  eat  in  the  shape  of 
fish,  then  the  fault  will  lie  at  the  door  of  your 
cook." 

"Ho!  Lord  Oakleigh  has  been  out  I  don't  know 
how  many  times  to  try  for  those  same  fish,  and  he 
has  never  caught  one  yet." 

"Is  Lord  Oakleigh  still  at  the  castle?" 

"Yes.  He  has  gone  over  to  Dayton — he  went 
yesterday — to  stop  till  to-morrow." 


OUR  HERO  MEETS   WITH  AN  ADVENTURE.        39 

"When  will  he  return  to  Oxford?" 

"I  don't  know.  Ha!  but  here  comes  somebody 
that  does." 

Percy  turned,  and  his  heart  bounded  with  an 
impulse  that  shook  him  from  head  to  foot.  It  was 
Cordelia  Chester  who  had  come  upon  the  scene,  the 
child  whom  we  last  saw  with  her  bowed  head  upon 
the  pillow  of  her  dying  father. 

The  promises  of  her  childhood,  so  far  as  beauty 
was  concerned,  had,  if  such  a  thing  could  be  possible, 
been  more  than  fulfilled.  The  brown  hair  had 
grown  darker  and  richer,  and  the  eyes,  gray  like 
opals,  had  taken  to  themselves  a  depth  of  brilliancy 
wonderful  to  behold. 

They  were,  in  truth,  marvelous  eyes;  as  frank 
and  unswerving  as  eyes  could  be,  and  as  true  as 
heaven.  It  is  a  strong  expression,  but  it  is  true.  If 
ever  there  was  truth  and  purity  on  earth,  the  qual- 
ity was  mirrored  in  the  opalistic  depths  of  Cordelia 
Chester's  eyes. 

She  was  not  tall;  scarcely  up  to  the  ordinary 
stature  of  woman ;  but  she  was  plump  and  ruddy, 
and  healthful  and  strong,  with  a  native  capacity  for 
fun  and  frolic,  yet  full  of  practical  common  sense, 
and  a  wonderful  faculty  for  business. 

The  earl  had  promised  Sir  William  that  he  would 
take  care  of  his  daughter's  estate  and  look  carefully 
after  the  returns  of  her  agent,  and  this  he  had  done 
for  three  or  four  years;  but  the  time  had  come 
when  Cordelia  was  able  not  only  to  look  after  her 
own  business  affairs,  but  to  keep  the  accounts  of  her 


40  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

guardian  as  well.  Yes,  she  was  the  business  head 
of  the  castle.  And  who  had  taught  her?  We  are  to 
discover  that  immediately. 

"Oh,  Percy!  I  am  glad  you  have  come.  I  have 
got  myself  into  a  tangle  from  which  you  must  help 
me  out." 

"A  tangle,  dear  lady?  What  may  be  its  nature?" 

"It  is  a  note  which  the  earl  holds  against  the 
lessee  of  his  coal  mine  in  Bentland.  There  have 
been  three  payments  made  on  it :  but  there  was  a  con- 
siderable sum  of  interest  due  on  the  amount  paid, 
which  interest  was  not  paid.  So,  you  see,  there  has 
been  interest  on  interest,  and — Oh !  it  is  a  mixed  up 
mess  in  every  way.  Come ;  we  shall  have  time  to 
fix  it  before  dark,  if  we  go  at  it  directly.  Oh  !  I  am 
so  glad  you  are  here !" 

"If  the  mistress  commands,  I  suppose  the  slave 
must  obey,"  said  Percy,  a  pleasant  smile  rippling 
over  his  handsome  face,  as  he  made  a  movement  as 
though  to  follow  her. 

Ordinarily  the  sparkling,  quick-witted  girl  would 
have  made  a  joking,  laughing  rejoinder  to  his  sally, 
but  it  was  not  so  now. 

"Oh !  Percy,"  she  returned,  the  look  she  gave  him 
full  of  grateful  emotion.  "I  do  not  feel  like  a  mis- 
tress in  this  dire  strait.  I  must  acknowledge  you 
the  master.  But,"  she  added,  as  they  started  on 
their  way,  "I  will  be  mistress  to-morrow,  when  I 
shall  expect  you  to  obey  me  very  punctually." 

"You  have  but  to  command  me,  lady." 

"We  shall  see." 


OUR  HERO  MEETS    WITH  AN  ADVENTURE.        4* 

Cordelia  led  the  way  to  a  prettily  furnished  bou- 
doir on  the  second  floor  of  the  modern  wing,  where 
were  found  the  books  and  papers  she  had  been  over- 
hauling for  her  grandfather.  So  she  always  called 
him,  and  she  could  not  feel  that  he  had  been  any- 
thing else  to  her. 

The  note  was  produced,  with  half  a  dozen  scrawl- 
ing, blotted  indorsements  on  its  back,  three  of 
which  were  not  dated. 

"Paid  on  the  within — £500,"  one  of  them  read 
with  no  date. 

"Paid  £700,"  read  another,  also  without  date. 

However,  the  earl's  cash  book  was  at  hand,  and 
here  the  entries  were  found  with  dates,  as  they 
should  be;  and  with  this  help  the  young  man  went 
at  the  work.  When  he  had  made  the  matter  of 
dates  correct — entered  them  on  the  note — he  turned 
to  the  work  of  computing  interest.  "Now,  my 
lady,  I  think  you  would  like  to  understand  this 
business ;  because,  do  you  know  you  will  not  have 
me  here  always  to  help  you." 

The  girl  started  as  though  word  of  some  dire 
calamity  had  been  suddenly  whispered  in  her  ear; 
but  Percy  had  turned  his  eyes  upon  his  work,  and 
did  not  see ;  and  before  he  looked  at  her  again  she 
had  recovered  from  the  shock,  or  she  had  at  least 
overcome  all  outward  signs. 

She  gave  her  attention  as  closely  as  she  could, 
while  her  companion  computed  the  interest,  at  the 
same  time  explaining  to  her  the  various  steps  as  he 
progressed. 


42  THE   SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

"There  you  have  it,  dear  lady ;  and  I  will  warrant 
it  correct.  You  can  see  how  important  is  interest 
on  interest.  The  earl  might  have  lost  more  than 
£200  if  that  had  been  left  unreckoned." 

But  the  girl  was  not  in  the  mood,  at  that  particu- 
lar time,  for  the  further  study  of  interest,  either 
simple  or  compound.  She  had  planned  an  excursion 
to  the  Witch's  Crag  for  the  morrow,  and  she  wanted 
Percy  for  guide  and  proector.  So,  having  thanked 
him,  with  all  her  heart,  for  the  kindness  just  received 
at  his  hands,  she  broached  the  other  matter.  There 
were  beautiful  autumnal  flowers  blooming  amid  the 
wild  fastnesses  of  the  crag,  and  she  determined  to 
find  them  if  she  could.  He,  however  knew  just 
where  to  look  for  them. 

"Will  it  answer,"  asked  the  young  man  after  a 
little  thought,  "if  I  come  after  noon?" 

"Yes  I  don't  care  to  start  before  noon.  Mary  will 
go  with  us  to  carry  the  basket." 

Percy  promised  that  he  would  be  with  her  in  time 
for  the  excursion  and  then  took  his  leave.  She 
watched  him  as  he  departed — watched  him  until  an 
intervening  angle  of  a  wall  had  hidden  him  from 
view.  Then  with  her  hand  pressed  over  her  heart, 
she  bent  her  head  in  thought. 

"What  did  he  mean,  I  wonder,  by  saying  that  he 
wouldn't  be  here  to  help  me?  Oh !  if  I  dared  to  ask 
him!  I  will!  He  must  not  go  away.  He  shall  not. 
I  would  rather  have — " 

And  there  she  stopped.  Whatever  she  thought 
further  was  hidden  in  her  own  bosom.  But  we  have 


DEAD  MAN'S  REEF.  43 

heard  enough  to  tell  us  that  her  heart  was  turning 
towards  her  kind  and  handsome  Mentor. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

DEAD   MAN'S  REEF. 

ON  the  morning  following  his  meeting  with  the 
smuggler  chief  in  the  wood  our  hero  was  up  with 
the  sun,  if  not  a  little  before  it.  But,  early  as  it  was, 
his  mother  was  up  still  earlier.  He  had  told  her  on 
the  previous  evening  of  his  promise  to  Captain 
Tryon,  and  she  had  arisen  to  get  him  a  bite  of 
breakfast,  as  there  was  no  telling  at  what  hour  he 
would  board  the  brig. 

Margery  Maitland  had  changed  but  very  little 
since  her  husband's  death.  There  were  a  few  lines 
of  silver  in  the  raven  blackness  of  her  hair  which  had 
not  been  there  before.  Old  lines  had  deepened  on 
her  face  while  new  ones  had  been  added. 

She  was  still  a  handsome  woman,  notwithstanding 
a  certain  sharpening  of  her  features  and  an  atmos- 
phere of  coldness,  almost  of  misanthropy,  that 
enveloped  her.  She  was  seldom  seen  to  smile  and 
in  the  presence  of  her  son  she  smiled  never. 

Sometimes,  when  the  old  lieutenant,  Donald 
Rodney,  with  a  few  of  his  chosen  mates  was  spend- 
ing an  evening  in  the  cottage,  and  the  bottle  and 
punch-bowl  circulated  freely,  then,  under  the  influ- 
ence of  jest  and  story,  and  hearty  laughter,  she 


44  THE   SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

might  join  them  so  far  as  to  smile,  with  occasionally 
a  hard  metallic  laugh. 

"Mother,"  said  the  youth,  after  he  had  taken  his 
seat  at  the  table,  on  which  she  had  spread  a  break- 
fast that  should  have  pleased  an  epicure.  "I.  have  a 
question  to  ask  you ;  and  it  is  in  relation  to  a  mat- 
ter which  has  puzzled  me  exceedingly.  Who  and 
what  is  this  man  who  has  taken  my  father's  place  on 
board  the  brig?" 

The  woman  caught  her  breath  and  turned  quickly 
to  the  fire.  With  the  tongs  she  lifted  a  couple  of 
fallen  brands  into  place  by  which  time  she  had 
regained  her  wonted  composure,  and  was  ready  to 
face  her  son,  which  she  did,  with  a  look  that  she 
meant  to  be  one  of  surprise. 

"Do  you  ask  me  who  and  what  Captain  Ralph 
Tryon  is?" 

"Exactly,  mother.     Will  you  tell  me?" 

"Well!  upon  my  word!  Here  he's  been,  off  and 
on,  for  the  matter  of  eight  years  and  more ;  and 
now  you  ask  me  that !" 

"Yes,  mother,  I  do  ask  you ;  for  I  am  sure  you 
know  more  of  him  than  I  do." 

"Why  should  you  think  so?" 

"Don't  do  that!"  the  youth  pleaded,  beseech- 
ingly. "I  pray  you  do  not  deny  a  self-evident  fact." 

"Boy!" 

"Stop !  Let  me  finish.  Mother,  I  never  spoke  a 
word  with  Captain  Tryon  that  I  was  not  forced  to 
speak — so  forced  by  circumstances  beyond  my  con- 
trol. I  never  held  with  him  a  social  confab;  nor 


DEAD  MAN'S  REEF.  45 

have  I  ever  conversed  with  any  of  my  old  crew  about 
him.  I  did,  once,  ask  old  Rodney  the  same  ques- 
tion I  have  now  asked  you." 

"Ha!     You  did!     And  what  was  his  answer?" 

"His  answer  left  me  more  puzzled  than  I  was 
before ;  for  he  plainly  showed  to  me  that  he  was  not 
at  liberty  to  talk  about  his  commander.  In  short, 
he  wouldn't  say  a  word,  only  of  refusal." 

"And  you'll  get  the  same  answer  from  me !  So, 
now,  go  and  eat  your  breakfast." 

Percy  knew  his  mother  well  enough  to  know  that 
if  she  had  so  willed,  that  must  be  the  end.  He  was 
disappointed,  and  he  felt  hurt;  but  there  was  no 
help  for  it  that  he  could  see  and  he  turned  his  atten- 
tion to  his  meal. 

And  that  would  have  been  the  end  had  Margery 
been  content  to  leave  the  matter  as  it  was;  evi- 
denly,  she  was  not  satisfied.  As  she  moved  noise- 
lessly about  the  small  living-room  she  cast,  ever  and 
anon,  inquiring  glances  upon  her  son,  as'though  she 
had  something  to  ask.  And  so  she  had.  As  is 
proved  afterward,  she  was  anxious  to  know  what 
Percy  had  discovered  or  how  much,  if  anything,  he 
suspected  with  regard  to  her  relations  with  the  new 
smuggler  chief. 

At  length  she  stepped  close  to  his  side  and  after 
a  little  further  thought  she  said : 

"Percy,  what  did  you  mean  by  the  question  you 
asked  me?  How  could  you  suppose  that  I  could 
know  anything  of  Captain  Tryon?" 

The  youth  marked  the  anxiety  in  his  mother's 


46  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

voice  and  it  gave  him  new  cause  for  distrust.  Had 
all  been  clear  and  above  board  she  could  not  have 
felt  thus. 

"Mother,"  he  answered,  calmly  and  kindly,  but 
firmly,  at  the  same  time  looking  her  straight  in  the 
eye.  "I  will  only  tell  you  what  I  know.  I  know 
that  Ralph  Tryon  is  a  frequent  visitor  here  and  that 
you  give  him  warm  welcome.  I  know  that  he  has 
more  than  once  come  to  you  for  advice  and  assist- 
ance— " 

"Advice,  in  what?"  broke  in  the  woman,  eagerly. 
"In  what  has  he  ever  asked  me  to  advise  him?" 

"Ah !  That  I  do  not  know.  I  only  know  what  I 
have  told  you,  and  I  know  further  that  you  have — 
He  stopped  abruptly  and  paused.  A  moment  later 
he  added,  with  more  feeling  than  he  had  before 
shown,  "Mother,  I  have  said  enough  in  that  strain. 
I  have  never  watched  you,  never  spied  upon  you, 
and  never  will.  Heaven  knows  I  seek  only  your 
good.  Surely,  you  can  not  wonder  that  I,  when  I 
have  seen  a  man  so  familiar  and  so  warmly  wel- 
comed beneath  this  roof  as  is  Ralph  Tryon,  should 
be  anxious  to  know  who  and  what  he  is.  That,  you 
know,  I  am  convinced.  What  objections  have  you 
to  telling  me?" 

"My  dear  boy,  you  see  him  commander  of  the 
Staghound  and  chief  of  the  King's  Cove  smugglers. 
Is  not  this  enough?  What  reason  have  you  for 
thinking  anything  else  of  him?" 

"Mother!"  replied  the  youth,  quickly  and  sternly, 
with  his  gaze  fixed  sharply  on  her  face,  "listen  to 


DEAD  MAN'S  REEF.  47 

me.  I  know  that  Ralph  Tryon  is  all  that  you  said. 
I  know,  also,  that  he  is  more.  Somewhere,  at  some 
time,  I  have  seen  him  under  other  circumstances,  if 
not  under  another  name." 

Margery  Maitland  was  startled — she  was  fright- 
ened. If  not  so,  then  her  looks  belied  her. 

"Percy!  What  do  you  say?  You  have  seen  him 
elsewhere — in  another  guise?  Where?  Where  was 
it?" 

The  youth  shook  his  head. 

"Ah !  that  is  the  very  thing  that  puzzles  me,"  he 
said,  dubiously.  "I  can  not  tell  where  I  have  seen 
him,  nor  when.  I  only  know  that  it  is  so." 

Margery  had  recovered  herself,  though  traces  of 
her  recent  fright  were  still  visible. 

"Pshaw!"  she  cried,  trying  to  simulate  contempt. 
"It's  all  in  your  imagination,  boy.  Just  think  of  it; 
here  he  has  been  these  seven  or  eight  years,  out  and 
in  before  you,  and  now,  when  he  is  known  of  all 
men  for  what  he  is,  and  for  nothing  else,  you  begin 
to  fancy  that  he  is  somebody  else  !  It  is  ridiculous ! 
You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  such  petty  trifling." 

"All  right,"  returned  Percy,  getting  up  from  the 
table  as  he  spoke.  "Let  it  pass.  Only,  my  dear 
mother,  I  would  like  to  correct  you  in  one  thing.  I 
am  not  just  beginning  to  fancy  the  thing  I  have  men- 
tioned. No,  no :  far  from  it.  I  can  well  remember 
the  first  time  I  ever  set  eyes  on  him  and  heard  him 
speak — it  was  on  board  the  brig — the  same  belief  or 
impression  possessed  me.  Yes,  even  then  I  could 
have  sworn  that  he  had  been  known  to  me  in  a 


48  THE  SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

totally  different  guise,  and  the  impression  has  gone 
on  gaining  strength  from  that  time.  But  I  shall 
know  one  of  these  days.  Something  tells  me  it  will 
be  revealed  to  me.  I  can  wait." 

Again  the  woman  started ;  and  the  look  she 
darted  upon  her  son  was  not  pleasant  to  see;  but  his 
back  was  turned  toward  her,  and  he  did  not 
catch  it. 

Without  further  remark,  our  hero  set  about  his 
preparations  for  departure.  The  garb  he  now  wore 
was  a  neat,  well-fitting  seaman's  dress,  of  fine  blue 
cloth,  with  an  ordinary  Scotch  cap  on  his  head. 

Having  donned  his  cap,  and  put  a  flask  of  wine  in 
his  pocket,  he  threw  a  serviceable  peacoat  over  his 
left  arm,  and  was  ready  to  set  forth. 

He  asked  his  mother  if  she  had  any  errand  to 
send  to  Rodney,  or  any  other  of  the  crew.  She  had 
none.  And  then,  as  was  his  custom,  he  bade  her  a 
pleasant  "good-morning,"  by  way  of  adieu,  and 
departed. 

If  Percy  could  have  looked  back  upon  his  mother, 
as  he  walked  swiftly  away  he  would  have  seen  that 
she  was  watching  him  with  an  expression  of  coun- 
tenance far  from  pleasant  or  satisfactory. 

If  the  words  she  spoke  to  herself  could  have 
reached  his  ears,  he  would  have  heard  her  mutter 
with  marked  anxiety: 

"Mercy!  He  must  be  warned!  I  must  put  him 
on  guard  at  once.  If  Percy  is  bent  upon  discover- 
ing his  secret,  who  shall  say  that  he  may  not  do  it? 
He  is  sharp ;  and  he  can  be  stubborn.  Heavens  and 


DEAD  MAN'S  REEF.  49 

earth!  If  he  should  discover!  But  he  must  not! 
Ralph  must  look  to  himself.  There  can  be  no  dan- 
ger if  we  are  both  careful.  I  know  I  can  be  so ;  and 
I  think  he  will  be." 

But  the  youth  heard  not ;  and  it  may  have  been 
well  that  ignorance  in  that  direction  was  his  portion. 
He  was  bound  for  the  landing  where  we  saw  him 
step  from  his  skiff  to  the  shore  on  the  previous 
afternoon. 

It  was  distant  half  a  mile  from  the  cottage,  the 
path  lying  through  a  deep  wood  most  of  the  way. 

The  sun  was  just  rising  above  the  hills  beyond  the 
park  when  he  reached  it.  He  was  in  ample  time. 

He  made  quick  work  of  getting  his  boat  into  the 
stream  and  his  oars  out,  and  he  was  not  long  in  pull- 
ing to  the  lake. 

Once  there,  where  he  could  make  use  of  the  wind, 
he  let  drop  the  center  board ;  then  stepped  the  mast, 
and  very  soon  thereafter  the  light  craft  was  shooting 
away  under  a  broad  leg-of-mutton  sail,  like  a  race 
horse,  that  is.  supposing  that  a  race  horse  could 
travel  like  a  duck. 

The  distance  from  the  inner  shore  of  the  bay  to 
the  outer  headlands  was  not  far  from  two  miles. 
The  brig  was  to  come  from  the  south,  so  our  pilot 
put  his  boat's  head  in  that  direction,  running  it  over 
Dead  Man's  Reef,  the  great  black  rocks  of  which  he 
could  plainly  see  as  he  passed  above  them. 

They  were,  in  truth,  terrible  looking  things  and 
the  man  who  would  have  proposed  to  run  a  large 
vessel,  anything  deeper  than  a  common  sailboat, 


5°  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  ICING'S  COVE. 

through  the  territory  they  occupied  might  well  have 
been  deemed  insane  or  mad. 

Percy  ran  out  between  the  southern  headland  of 
the  bay,  called  South  Head  and  Hood's  Island,  and 
scarcely  had  he  gained  the  open  sea  when  he  saw 
the  brig  three  miles  away  or  more,  coming  up  with 
the  wind  on  her  larboard  beam  and  every  rag  of  can- 
vas spread  that  she  could  carry.  What  did  it  mean? 
he  asked  himself. 

Ha!  Ere  long  he  saw.  Having  run  a  little 
further  out,  so  that  his  eye  could  sweep  the  south- 
ern horizon  to  the  coast,  he  espied  a  heavy  ship, 
also  spanking  along  under  all  the  sail  she  could 
spread.  He  kept  a  small  telescope  in  the  close 
locker  in  the  stern-sheets,  and,  through  this,  standing 
erect  against  the  mast,  he  viewed  the  stranger. 

"Oho !  The  sloop-of-war,  as  I  live !"  He  made 
sure  there  could  be  no  mistake,  then  he  put  away 
the  glass  and  resumed  his  place  at  the  helm. 

The  corevette  was,  as  nearly  as  he  could  judge, 
three  miles  distant  from  the  brig  and  she  appeared 
to  be  gaining.  At  first  Percy  was  surprised.  He 
had  not  thought  there  was  a  ship  in  the  British  navy 
that  could  sail  with  the  Staghound ;  but  he  very 
soon  solved  the  mystery.  The  latter's  lee  scuppers 
were  under  water.  She  was  loaded  as  he  had  never) 
seen  her  loaded  before.  Only  a  reckless,  unreliable 
man  could  have  done  such  a  thing. 

In  a  heavy  seaway,  or  in  the  teeth  of  a  respectable 
storm,  she  would  have  foundered,  in  spite  of  all  that 
could  have  been  done  to  save  her.  Of  course,  the 


DEAD  MAN'S  REEF.  5 1 

throwing  overboard  of  a  portion  of  the  cargo  might 
have  saved  her;  but,  if  they  would  have  cast  it  over 
in  a  storm,  why  had  they  not  done  it  to  enable  them 
to  run  way  from  the  king's  ship? 

With  the  brig  and  the  boat  approaching  one  an- 
other rapidly,  the  three  miles  were  quickly  covered. 
Percy  had  taken  in  his  sail,  and  unstepped  his  mast 
just  in  season  to  catch  a  line  thrown  to  him  from 
the  brig's  lee  quarter;  and  in  a  few  moments  more 
he  was  on  her  deck,  with  his  boat  towing  astern. 

The  brig  was  a  Yankee-built  vessel ;  originally,  as 
lettering  in  her  cabin  proved,  hailing  from  Balti- 
more. She  had  a  capacity  of  two  hundred  and  fifty 
tons ;  was  sharp  forward ;  with  a  clean,  pretty  run ; 
spars  lofty  and  very  nearly  perpendicular,  depend- 
ing for  support  more  on  the  strength  of  stays  and 
shrouds  than  on  bulk  and  weight  of  timber,  with  a 
spread  of  canvas  that  completely  overshadowed  her. 

The  first  man  to  greet  the  youth  as  he  sprang 
over  the  quarter-rail,  was  the  old  lieutenant,  Donald 
Rodney,  a  man  past  his  first  half  centutry  of  life ;  a 
stout,  rugged,  pleasant-faced  English  seaman. 

He  was  a  true  friend  and  he  meant  to  do  as  nearly 
right  as  he  knew  how;  or,  such  had  been  his  aim  in 
other  years,  but  he  had  of  late  fallen  under  new 
influences,  and  Percy,  as  he  gazed  upon  him,  and 
found  his  eye  faltering,  feared  that  he  had  been 
going  wrong. 

In  short,  he  feared  that  all  hands — that  every- 
thing on  board,  had  been  going  wrong  for  a  con- 
siderable time. 


52  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

However,  that  was  no  time  for  moralizing.  He 
had  come  to  save  the  brig,  and  he  would  do  it  if  he 
could.  He  cast  his  eyes  over  the  taffrail,  and  saw 
the  ship  not  a  fathom  more  than  a  mile  and  a  half 
away.  She  was  nearer  than  he  had  thought. 

"Donald,  why  haven't  you  cast  overboard  a  part 
of  your  cargo !  Mercy  on  us !  If  the  corvette  had 
a  single  mile  more  of  running  space  she  would  be 
very  apt  to — " 

The  speech  was  cut  short  by  the  flash  of  a  gun  at 
the  ship's  weather  bridle  port  and  at  the  same  instant 
a  crashing  aloft.  A  few  moments  later  the  brig's 
main  top-gallant  mast  came  tearing  down  over  the 
lee  rail. 

"Cutaway!  Cut  everything  clear!"  shouted  our 
hero.  He  paused  here,  and  looked  around  upon  the 
men  who  came  crowding  upon  the  quarter-deck. 

The  brig's  crew  numbered  five-and-fifty  men,  only 
thirty  of  whom  had  been  with  the  old  commander, 
Captain  Maitland.  The  five-and-twenty  new  men 
had  been  added  by  Tryon,  and  they  were  a  dark- 
visaged,  evil-eyed  looking  set.  The  only  thing  that 
Percy  could  think  of  when  he  looked  at  them,  was 
five-and-twenty  pirates!  He  was  well  aware  that  of 
the  old  crew  there  were  a  number — perhaps  the 
majority  of  them — who  would  have  readily  departed 
upon  an  evil  course  under  the  influence  of  an  evil 
leader.  He  looked  over  the  crew  as  they  came  aft, 
and  asked  them : 

"Will  you  give  the  command  to  me?  Quick  with 
your  answer!" 


DEAD  MAN'S  REEF.  S3 

"Yes !     Yes !" 

"Then  cut  away  the  wreck  of  the  mast  and  take 
your  stations,  Rodney!" 

"Aye,  aye,  sir!" 

"Put  two  of  the  very  best  men  you  have  at  the 
wheel." 

"I  guess  I'd  better  be  one  of  'em,  sir." 

"No.  I  want  you  in  the  waist.  I  must  take  my 
place  on  the  heel  of  the  bowsprit,  when  the  pinch 
comes."  t 

Two  good  men  of  the  crew,  both  of  whom  our 
hero  knew  well,  took  the  wheel,  and  the  brig  was 
soon  on  her  course,  with  the  wreck  of  the  topgallant 
mast  floating  astern.  The  corvette  let  fly  one  more 
shot,  but  without  effect,  and  she  seemed  inclined 
to  fire  no  more.  She  had  found  herself  gaining  so 
fast  that  further  firing  would  be  worse  than  useless. 
Not  only  would  it  be  a  waste  of  ammunition,  but 
they  would  be  making  a  wreck  of  their  own  prize. 

Aye,  the  officers  of  the  king's  ship  were  as  sure  of 
the  brig  as  they  were  of  the  coming  of  noontime. 
They  knew  there  was  a  bay  somewhere  ahead  into 
which  the  chase  would  probably  run ;  but  they  could 
run  in  as  well  and  capture  the  bold  contrabandists 
at  their  leisure.  " 

The  brig  was  now  within  a  few  minutes'  run  of 
the  southern  headland  of  Raven  Bay,  and  between 
that  headland  and  Hood's  Island  was  a  broad,  fair 
opening  to  the  inlet  beyond ;  but  close  behind  it, 
lurking  in  the  hidden  depths  like  hungry  beasts  of 
prey  were  the  sunken  rocks  of  Dead  Man's  Reef. 


54  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

The  reef  stretched  the  whole  distance,  on  a  line 
between  the  headland  and  the  island ;  and  never  yet 
within  the  knowledge  of  man  had  a  vessel  larger  than  a 
common  pleasure-boat  dared  to  attempt  the  passage. 
No  fisherman  of  that  region  was  reckless  enough  to 
risk  his  smack  over  that  death-trap.  The  true  chan- 
nel, the  proper  and  safe  entrance  to  the  bay,  was  a 
mile  further  to  the  northward,  between  the  upper 
headland  and  Old  Man's  Island. 

"I  tell  ye,"  cried  a  man  of  the  brig's  crew,  looking 
back  upon  the  corvette  and  then  ahead  upon  the 
point  beyond  Old  Man's  Island,  "we  can  never  reach 
it  in  the  world !" 

"Silence!"  shouted  the  youthful  pilot,  in  a  voice 
that  reached  every  ear,  and  caused  every  man  to 
start.  "I  said  I  would  save  you.  Obey  me  to  the 
letter  and  I  will  do  it.  Stand  by,  all  hands  Clew 
up  the  mainsail !  Lay  the  yards  square !  Up  helm  ! 
Easily !  So !" 

The  men  were  thunderstruck.  They  did  not 
refuse  to  obey,  yet  they  were  sure  they  were  going 
to  wreck  and  ruin.  Aye — for  they  were  heading 
fair  and  square  upon  Dead  Man's  Reef !  What  in 
the  world  did  it  mean? 

"Percy!  Percy!  You  can  never  do  it — never!" 
groaned  old  Rodney  in  an  agony  of  terror. 

"I'll  do  it,  Donald,  if  you  are  sharp  enough  to 
follow  me — to  see  that  the  helm  answers  my  orders." 

"I'll  do  the  best  I  can,  dear  boy.  But — Oh,  can 
ye  do  it?" 

"Wait  and  see." 


DEAD  MAN'S  REEF.  55 

The  youth  then  spoke  to  the  men  a  word  of 
cheer,  assuring  them  that  he  could  take  the  brig 
safely  through  the  reef,  and  then  took  his  station 
forward,  with  Donald  in  the  waist  to  pass  his  orders 
aft,  in  case  there  should  be  need.  He  had  already 
given  to  the  helmsmen  general  instructions,  so  they 
knew  how  to  steer  till  the  need  should  come  for  a 
change.  And  pretty  soon  it  came.  The  brig  had 
passed  into  the  mouth  of  the  bay,  with  South  Head 
on  her  starboard  quarrer,  and  Hood's  Island  on  her 
larboard ;  and  now  the  long  stretch  of  Dead  Man's 
Reef  was  under  her  forefoot,  and  she  had  almost  an 
eighth  of  a  mile  to  run  in  the  midst  of  the  terrible 
rocks ! 

The  young  hero  never  blanched,  never  quivered, 
though  every  other  man  on  board  shook  from  top 
to  toe. 

"Helm,  there! — starboard! — steady! — so!  Star- 
board again  !  Easy! — hold!  Now!  port — so!" 

Anq1  so  he  went  on  through  the  trying  time.  The 
men  hung  over  the  sides,  looking  down  upon  the 
ugly  rocks,  some  of  which  were  within  two  or  three 
feet  of  the  surface — looking  down,  and  holding  their 
breaths — wondering  if  the  thing  could  be  possible. 
It  seemed  a  long,  long  time ;  though  it  was  not 
many  minutes  before  the  glad  shout  went  up. 

"There  we  are !"  exclaimed  Percy,  as  he  stepped 
down  from  his  perch  forward  and  went  aft.  "The 
reef  is  behind  us,  and  all  with  us  is  well.  How  is 
it  with  the  ship,  I  wonder?" 

Aye,  how  was  it?     The  commander  of  the  cor- 


56  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

vette,  seeing  the  heavily  laden  brig  slip  in  so  readily 
to  the  fair  looking  opening,  between  the  headland 
and  the  island,  determined  that  he  would  follow.  If 
the  brig  could  go  his  ship  could  go.  But  alas  and 
alack  for  the  ship !  The  last  the  smugglers  saw  of 
her,  as  they  were  about  to  pass  from  the  sight  of 
their  expectant,  prize-loving  crew,  she  was  hard  and 
fast  on  the  rocks. 

We  may  add :  Her  boats  were  sufficient  to  save 
all  the  human  life  within  her,  but  for  herself,  she 
was  to  lie  there  until  the  winds  and  waves,  with  the 
assistance  of  the  sunken  rocks,  had  beaten  her  in 
pieces. 

CHAPTER  V. 
OLD  DONALD'S  CONFESSION. 

WHILE  the  unfortunate  sloop-of-war  lay  jammed 
in  between  two  jagged  sunken  rocks  of  the  terrible 
reef,  with  rocks  ahead  of  her,  and  rocks  astern  and 
rocks  on  every  hand ;  and  while  her  boats  were  busy 
in  getting  the  men  of  her  crew  safely  to  the  shore, 
the  smuggler  brig  was  at  anchor  in  King's  Cove,  as 
effectually  hidden  from  the  prying  eyes  of  her  ene- 
mies as  though  she  had  been  at  the  bottom  of  the 
sea. 

Never  mind  about  the  wild  plaudits  of  the  out- 
laws as  they  gathered  around  their  youthful  pilot 
and  preserver.  But  for  him  they  would  have  been 
either  prisoners  or  dead — every  man  of  them ;  and 
they  knew  it. 


OLD  DONALD'S  CONFESSION.  57 

Percy  could  not  prevent  them  from  being  grate- 
ful, nor  could  he  entirely  hush  their  loud  and  bois- 
terous acclaims ;  the  most  he  could  do  was  to  per- 
suade them  to  cut  it  as  short  as  possible  and,  soon 
as  he  could  find  opportunity,  to  get  away  into  the 
cabin  with  Donald  Rodney. 

Next  to  his  father,  old  Donald  had  been  the  one 
man  of  the  old  crew  whom  Percy  had  loved  and 
esteemed.  He  could  not  remember  the  time  when 
he  had  not  loved  "Uncle  Rodney"  as  he  had  called 
him  in  his  boyhood. 

The  first  crew  organized  by  Hugh  Maitland  had  ac- 
knowledged Donald  Rodney  as  second  in  command, 
and  from  that  time  he  had  followed  the  career  then 
commenced. 

And  the  youth  still  retained  his  love  for  the  dear 
old  friend  of  his  boyhood :  and,  further,  he  had  ac- 
cepted a  great  many  favors  from  the  old  man's  hand. 

Thus  loving,  and  thus  respecting,  the  veteran, 
our  hero  had  determined  to  hold  with  him  a  serious 
conversation.  He  was  bound,  if  possible,  to  know 
the  present  character  of  the  brig;  together  with 
something  more  of  the  character  of  the  man  who 
now  commanded  her. 

Rodney,  as  soon  as  his  young  friend  had  taken  a 
seat,  produced  a  bottle,  and  two  glasses. 

"Only  one  bottle,  my  dear  boy ;  for  I  know  its 
the  wine  you'll  like.  Just  taste  it,  and  say  if  you 
ever  tasted  finer." 

Percy  filled  a  glass  and  sipped  a  little  of  it,  and 
the  old  man  had  not  exaggerated.  He  had  certainly 


58  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

never  tasted  a  finer  wine,  and  he  said  so.  He  drank 
the  contents  of  his  glass  slowly,  and  then  leaned 
back  in  his  chair. 

He  saw  very  plainly  that  the  old  man  was  nerv- 
ous and  uneasy — that  he  would  rather  have  been 
almost  anywhere  else  than  in  that  cabin  with  the  son 
of  his  old  commander  looking  him  in  the  eye.  But 
the  youth  intended  to  deal  gently  with  him,  though 
squarely. 

"Donald,  I  have  called  you  down  here  because  I 
have  a  few  questions  to  ask — questions  which  I  hope 
and  trust  you  will  answer.  But,  first,  let  me  give 
you  my  solemn  promise  that  anything  you  may  say 
to  me — any  information  you  may  give  me — shall  be 
held  sacred  and  secret  in  my  own  bosom.  I  will 
never  use  information  from  your  lips  to  the  injury 
of  any  living  being.  Surely  that  ought  to  lead  you 
to  trust  me." 

"Heave  ahead,  Percy!"  the  smuggler  replied, 
frankly.  Presently  he  added  with  a  smile,  but  not  a 
happy  one,  "I  can  imagine  pretty  nearly  what  ye 
want,  and  I  tell  ye,  fair  and  honest,  if  ye  lay  too 
close  I  shall  sheer  off." 

"All  right,  old  friend.  Take  your  own  course. 
In  the  first  place,  will  you  tell  me  what  your  present 
cargo  consists  of?  Remember,  I  have  this  day  saved 
it — saved  not  only  the  cargo  and  brig,  but  every 
man  on  board.  Where  would  you  be  at  this  mo- 
ment, Rodney,  but  for  me?" 

"Either  shot,  or  in  irons  on  board  a  king's  ship," 
answered  the  old  man  promptly. 


OLD  DONALD'S  CONFESSION.  59 

"When  I  boarded  the  brig  this  morning,"  pursued 
Percy,  "her  main-hatch  was  off." 

"Yes,  I'd  ordered  it  off,  thinkin'  we  might  have  to 
throw  overboard  some  of  the  cargo ;  and  some  of  it 
would  have  gone  if  the  captain's  men  hadn't  stuck 
out  so  against  it." 

"You  mean  the  new  men,  who  came  in  with 
Tryon?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  Rodney,  as  I  cast  my  eyes  down  into  the 
hold  I  caught  sight  of  two  or  three  boxes,  iron- 
bound,  bearing  the  name  and  marks  we  sometimes 
see  on  boxes  of  merchandise  brought  over  by 
American  vessels.  What  are  they  doing  in  the  Stag- 
hound's  hold?  What  are  they?  Will  you  tell 
me?" 

The  old  man  was  terribly  perplexed.  His  two 
hard,  brown  hands  were  clasped  on  his  knees,  and 
his  head  was  bent. 

"Donald,  can't  you  look  me  in  the  face,  as  of  old?" 

Upon  that  the  poor  man  broke  down.  He  could 
contain  himself  no  longer. 

"No,  Percy!     I  can't!" 

"Poor  old  Donald!  What  is  it?  How  much  have 
you — suffered  them  to  lead  you  into  doing?" 

"Percy!  I  swear  to  you — I  swear,  on  my  Bible 
oath,  that  I've  never  lifted  a  hand  to  help  in  any  of 
their  mean,  dirty  work !  The  most  I've  done  has 
been  to  let  others  do  it,  and  wink  at  it.  And  yet,  if 
we'd  been  taken  to  day  by  the  king's  ship  I  should 
have  been  strung  up  with  the  rest  of  'em !  I  tell 


60  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

you  truly,  dear  boy,  I  never  thought  how  dreadful  it 
would  be  till  it  was  all  over. 

"Oh !  when  we  were  honest  smugglers,  only  bring- 
ing over  the  goods  honestly  bought  in  France,  or 
Holland,  or  Germany,  payin'  hard  gold  for  every- 
thing we  took,  and  simply  runnin'  it  in  without  stop- 
pin'  to  ask  the  king's  permission,  and  sellin'  it  to 
them  as  would  buy — why,  then,  my  boy,  I  could 
look  an  honest  man  in  the  face  anywhere.  Then, 
Percy,  some  o'  the  first  men  in  the  land  were  our 
friends.  Bless  ye,  boy,  your  father  had  friends  every- 
where. There  was  scarcely  a  lord  or  a  lady  any- 
where along  the  coast  that  didn't  bid  him  welcome. 
Ah !  it's  different  now." 

"In  short,  Donald,  the  Staghound  has  become  a 
pirate?" 

"Ye-e-es!     You've  hit  it.     I  won't  try  to  deny  it." 

"And  Ralph  Tryon  is  responsible  for  it?" 

'Take  care,  Percy!  Don't  ask  too  much  about 
him !" 

"You  can  answer  that.  Is  not  he  the  chief  power 
in  this  business?  Was  it  not  through  his  influence 
that  the  wicked  trade  was  entered  upon?" 

"Through  his  and  the  rest  of  the  gang." 

"But  he  was  the  chief?" 

"Yes,  I  s'pose  he  was." 

"Now,  Donald,  how  far  has  this  thing  gone? 
Have  you  taken  human  life?" 

"For  the  love  of  heaven !"  groaned  the  suffering 
old  man,  with  his  clasped  hands  extended,  "don't  ask 
me  any  more.  Let  the  one  thing  I'm  goin'  to  tell  ye 


OLD  DONALD'S  CONFESSION.  6 1 

of  my  own  free  will  satisfy  ye.  And,  mind  this, 
ye'll  keep  what  I  now  say  a  secret.  Will  ye  prom- 
ise that?" 

The  youth  promised,  and  the  other  went  on, 
speaking  in  low,  whispered  tones,  and  ever  and  anon 
casting  a  quick,  furtive  glance  around. 

"There's  two-and-twenty  of  us — all  the  old  crew 
but  eight — have  sworn  to  one  another  by  a  solemn 
oath  that  we'll  leave  the  brig  after  this.  There's  a  good 
deal  of  property  aboard — honestly  got — that  belongs 
to  us,  and  we  want  it ;  but,  as  soon  as  we  get  the 
business  squared,  we  will  clear  out.  And,  really,  I 
doubt  if  we  are  wanted.  At  all  events,  I  aint.  They 
don't  trust  me." 

"Good !  good !  And  you  will  let  me  give  you  a  bit 
of  advice.  Get  clear  of  the  brig  as  soon  as  you  can. 
Your  doings  have  made  a  noise  in  London,  and  very 
soon  a  strong  effort  will  be  made  to  find  the  offend- 
ing vessel." 

Donald  assured  his  young  friend  that  he  and  his 
mates  would  get  clear  as  soon  as  they  possibly 
could ;  and  upon  this  a  silence  fell,  which  lasted 
while  they  both  took  another  sip  of  wine,  and  a  few- 
seconds  beyond.  Percy  broke  it. 

"Donald,  I  come  now  to  a  question  which  I  am 
very  anxious  you  should  answer,  and,  before  asking 
it,  I  will  renew  the  pledge  of  secrecy  which  I  gave 
you  before.  Will  you  tell  me  what  you  know  of 
Ralph  Tryon  ?  Who — What — !  Can  a  simple  ques- 
tion startle  you  like  that?  Has  the  man  such  power 
over  old  Donald  Rodney  that  he  dare  not  speak?" 


62  THE  SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

"No !  no !  Percy,  you  don't  understand.  We're 
all  bound  by  a  terrible  oath— one  of  the  most  terri- 
ble ye  can  imagine — that  we  won't  speak  in  answer 
to  any  such  question  as  you  have  asked.  I'd  rather 
lose  a  hand  than  answer  ye !" 

"For  how  long  a  time  have  you  been  bound  by 
that  oath,  Rodney?" 

"For  a  long,  long  time.  But  don't  ask  me.  I 
mustn't  answer  to  anything  of  the  kind." 

"Well,  look  ye,  old  friend — my  old  'uncle,'  who 
loved  me  once,  and  who — 

"Loves  you  more  than  ever  before,"  broke  in  the 
old  man,  feelingly. 

"I  believe  you,  Donald  ;  and  I  hope  you  will  feel 
like  answering  my  next  question.  Tell  me,  haven't 
I  known,  or  haven't  I  seen  Ralph  Tryon  in  another 
character — a  character  widely  different  from  that  in 
which  he  now  appears?" 

Rodney  had  started  with  the  old  fright  as  the 
youth  began  to  speak,  but  a  moment  later  he  had 
taken  on  a  new  look  — one  of  quick,  keen  inquiry. 

"Percy,"  he  said  in  a  hoarse  whisper,  scarcely  au- 
dible, at  the  same  time  laying  his  hand  on  his  com- 
panion's knee.  "What  have  ye  got  in  your  mind? 
Where  d'ye  think  ye've  seen  him?" 

"There  is  the  trouble,  Donald.  For  the  life  of  me 
I  cannot  tell,  and  yet  I  am  as  sure  of  it  as  I  am  that 
you  now  sit  before  me.  Will  you  help  me?" 

Every  line  and  lineament  of  the  old  man's  face 
was  wrought  upon  by  an  agony  of  physical  torture. 
After  a  little  pause  he  started  to  his  feet  and  laid  a 


OLD  DONALD'S  CONFESSION.  63 

hand  on  the  youth's  head,  and  his  voice  when  he 
spoke  was  full  of  earnest,  prayerful  supplication. 

"Percy !  Percy !  If  you  love  me,  don't  ask  me  any 
more !  It's  more  than  my  life  is  worth  to  answer 
you  as  you  wish  to  be  answered.  I  can't !  I  can't ! 
Oh!  you  will  give  over,  won't  you?  You  won't  tor- 
ture me  any  more?  Ask  me  anything  else  in  the 
world — anything — and  I'll  answer,  if  I  know  how; 
but  not  that— Oh  !  not  that !" 

"All  right ;  I  won't  press  you  further,  Donald. 
I  am  only  sorry  that  the  wretch  has  gained  such 
power  over  you ;  but  I  am  glad  you  have  resolved  to 
break  the  chain." 

"Yes,  yes,  dear  boy,  I'll  break  that,  be  sure;  but, 
you'll  remember,  my  oath  will  last  while  I  live. 
You  will  never  ask  me  that  question  again,  will 
you?" 

Percy  gave  the  promise,  and  thus  failed  his  last 
chance,  his  last  solid  hope  of  solving  the  mystery 
that  had  so  perplexed  him  and  that  was  perplexing 
him  still;  aye,  and  that  must  continue  to  perplex 
him  until  he  could  discover  that  which  was  so 
strangely,  yet  so  effectually,  hidden  from  him. 

"By  the  way,"  he  said,  after  they  had  both  arisen 
and  were  ready  for  returning  to  the  deck — the 
thought  had  at  that  moment  occurred  to  him — "there 
is  one  thing  you  can  tell  me.  I  have  often  wondered 
that  Captain  Tryon  never  offered  nor  asked  to  re- 
main beneath  the  roof  of  our  cottage  through  a  night. 
Why  is  this?  Where  does  he  spend  his  time  when 
on  shore?" 


64  THE  SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

The  old  man  scratched  his  head,  and  then  gave  his 
trousers  a  hoist ;  then  he  scratched  his  head  again. 
Finally,  with  a'  burst,  he  answered  : 

"Ton  my  word,  Percy,  I  can't  tell  you.  One 
thing  I  will  say — yes,  two  of  'em — and  them's  the 
only  two  I'll  speak,  if  'twas  to  save  my  life !  First, 
then,  the  captain,  when  he  is  ashore,  spends  a  part 
of  his  time  in  another  place,  where  he's  got  friends. 
It  isn't  anywhere  about  these  parts.  Second,  I 
haven't  the  least  bit  of  doubt  that  he's  got  a  secret 
hidin'  place  somewhere  near  the  Cove,  or,  anyhow, 
not  a  great  ways  off;  but,  as  I'm  a  livin'  man,  I 
don't  know  where  it  is.  I  aint  one  of  them  that  he 
trusts  with  that  kind  of  a  secret." 

"A  hiding-place  near — " 

"Hush!  Be  careful,  for  heaven's  sake!  Don't 
say  any  more.  Let  that  be  the  last." 

"So  be  it,  Donald,  and  for  what  you  have  told  me 
I  thank  you." 

"Say ! — Percy !"  catching  the  young  man  by  the 
arm  as  he  was  about  to  lift  his  foot  to  the  first  step 
of  the  ladder,  "you  won't  lisp  a  word  to  your  mother 
of  what  I've  told  ye — not  a  word  !" 

"Have  no  fear,  Donald.  I  will  speak  of  it  to  no- 
body, and  never  as  having  come  from  you." 

"Bless  ye  for  that,  my  boy." 

And  then  they  went  on  deck,  where  they  found 
the  men  of  the  crew  variously  employed.  Half  of 
them  had  gone  on  shore,  while  the  remainder  were 
at  work  putting  matters  to  rights. 

Old  Donald's  first  care  after  his  pilot  had  left  him 


OLD  DONALD'S  CONFESSION,  65 

was  to  attend  to  the  replacing  of  the  lost  topgallant- 
mast,  for  which  they  had  plenty  of  spar  timber 
aboard. 

A  dozen  or  more  of  the  crew  gathered  around  our 
hero  as  he  stood  on  the  quarterdeck,  all  eager  to 
take  him  by  the  hand  and  speak  a  parting  word. 
He  read  in  their  faces  the  feeling  that  they  might 
never  see  him  again.  The  information  Donald  had 
given  him  enabled  him  to  do  this.  And  his  words 
of  good  will  and  blessing -in  response  appeared  to  be 
accepted  by  them  as  though  they  were  aware  of  his 
knowledge.  They  probably  thought  their  old  mate 
had  told  him  of  their  plans  for  the  future.  He  gave 
them,  each  and  all,  a  hearty  grasp  of  the  hand  and  a 
soul-sent  God's  blessing,  and  so  he  left  them. 

Old  Donald  went  with  him  to  the  shore;  and  the 
last  friendly  look  exchanged  between  them  was 
through  brimming  tears. 

Percy  was  saved  the  trouble  of  telling  to  his 
mother  the  story  of  his  adventure  on  board  the  brig. 
He  found  two  of  the  old  crew  at  the  cottage  before 
him — two  men  who  had  been  true  to  his  father,  and 
who,  he  had  no  doubt,  were  of  the  number  banded 
together  for  the  purpose  of  seeking  new  employ- 
ment. 

But  they  would  make  no  remark  in  relation  there- 
to in  the  widow's  hearing.  The  smugglers  all  knew 
that  she  was  friendly  to  their  chief ;  and  they  be- 
lieved she  would  support  and  defend  him  against  the 
rest  together. 

They  \vondered  at  it,  as  her  son  had  wondered. 


66  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

What  she  could  have  found  in  the  man  to  respect  or 
esteem  they — the  true  men  of  the  old  crew — could 
not  imagine.  It  was  a  puzzle  in  every  way. 

There  were  times  when  it  appeared  to  our  hero 
that  his  mother  was  warmly  attached  to  Tryon,  that 
she  served  and  obeyed  him  because  of  her  liking  for 
the  man.  There  were  other  times,  however,  when  it 
appeared  as  though  she  was  afraid  of  the  man,  that 
she  held  him  in  fear,  if  not  in  absolute  terror. 

Yes,  it  was  a  puzzle,  a  puzzle  to  Percy  Maitland 
of  the  most  perplexing  and  even  painful  character. 
And  he  thought  of  it  now  more  painfully  than  ever 
before,  now  that  the  revelation  or  confession  of  old 
Rodney  had  opened  up  the  full  blackness  of  the  vil- 
lain's character.  He  had  always  believed  Ralph 
Tryon  to  be  a  villain  and  now  he  knew  it,  knew 
him  to  be  guilty  of  one  of  the  gravest  crimes 
known  to  the  law  of  man.  Did  his  mother  know 
this?  How  could  she  help  knowing  it?  She  must 
have  known  it  from  the  first. 

Aye — as  he  reflected — as  he  called  to  mind  certain 
scenes  of  the  past,  he  remembered  words  spoken 
between  the  two — between  his  mother  and  Ralph 
Tryon — which  had  reference  to  this  very  business. 

Once,  very  nearly  a  year  before,  when  he  had 
come  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  upon  them  while 
they  were  in  close  conversation,  he  had  heard  these 
words  from  Tryon's  lips:  "Ho!  'twould  be  a  quick 
hanging,  and  no  mercy,  if  he  were  once  caught !" 

And  there  had  been  other  things  as  significant  as 
that.  Yes ;  his  mother  had  been  knowing  to  the 


OLD  DONALD'S  CONFESSION.  67 

man's  true  character  from  the  first.  And  that  had 
been — how  long?  He  had  forgotten  to  ask  Donald 
the  question,  but  he  could  judge  nearly. 

It  had  been  little  more  than  a  year  ago.  At  the 
time  he  had  overheard  that  remark  about  a  quick 
hanging  the  work  of  piracy  had  just  been  entered 
upon.  It  had  been  only  a  little  while  previous  to 
that  time  that  he,  Tryon,  had  been  given  full  and 
undisputed  command. 

But  where  was  the  use?  The  conversation  in  the 
brig's  cabin  had  aroused  his  feelings  to  a  high  pitch 
of  excitement,  and  it  took  a  considerable  time  to  quiet 
them ;  but  he  did  it  at  length.  He  turned  his 
thoughts  to  a  pleasanter  theme. 

It  was  near  noon  when  he  arrived  at  the  cottage, 
and  he  had  found  his  mother  at  work  setting  out  a 
repast  for  her  two  visitors.  He  went  up  to  his 
chamber  and  made  a  radical  change  in  his  garb,  ap- 
pearing, when  it  was  complete,  very  nearly  as  we 
found  him  on  the  previous  day,  save  that  in  place  of 
the  high-topped  boots  he  had  put  on  a  pair  of  light, 
but  firm-soled,  walking  shoes,  such  as  would  be  easy 
and  safe  in  climbing  the  craggy  eminence  he  had  in 
view. 

The  meal  had  been  prepared  on  his  return  to  the 
room  below,  and  a  plate  had  been  set  for  him,  so  he 
took  his  place  at  the  board  and  made  a  hearty  meal 
with  the  two  seamen. 

They  were  his  friends,  and  while  they  ate  together 
more  than  one  glance  passed  between  them  signify- 
ing that  they  were  in  possession  of  a  commonn 


63  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

secret ;  and  once  they  came  so  near  to  letting  it  out 
by  an  unguarded  remark  that  Margery  was  startled. 

"What  is  that?"  she  asked,  turning  quickly  upon 
the  man  who  had  spoken — an  old  seaman  and  a  good 
one — named  Stephen  Harley.  "What  did  you  say, 
Stephen?  That  you  wouldn't  sail  in  the  brig  again?" 

"Bless  your  dear  soul!  no,"  the  poor  fellow  re- 
plied, trembling  like  an  aspen.  And  a  happy 
thought  struck  him  in  his  moment  of  need.  "I  was 
sayin'  to  Master  Percy — God  bless  him ! — 'at  we 
shouldn't  none  of  us  been  likely  to've  sailed  in  the 
dear  old  brig  again — never  again — if  that  king's  ship 
had  overhauled  us.  And  she'd  'a'  done  it,  ma'am,  if 
it  hadn't  been  for  your  boy  here.  My  soul !  I  wish 
you  could  'ave  seen  her  on  the  rocks.  Hi !  I 
wonder  'f  they've  got  any  more  ships  that  want  to 
dance  over  Dead  Man's  Reef." 

The  woman  took  the  answer  seriously,  never  sus- 
pecting a  hidden  meaning.  The  men,  both  of  them, 
knew  her  too  well,  knew  too  surely  where  her 
sympathies  lay,  to  speak  in  her  hearing  of  their 
plans  for  the  future. 

Had  she  but  suspected  an  intent  on  the  part  of 
any  of  the  crew  to  forsake  their  chief,  she  would  be 
sure  to  give  him  warning. 

Percy  finished  his  meal,  and  having  bidden  his 
two  friends  an  affectionate  adieu,  he  left  the  cottage, 
feeling  freer  and  lighter  of  heart  when  he  was  clear 
of  it.  It  was  his  home — had  been  his  home  since  his 
birth,  and  his  mother  presided  at  the  hearthstone, 
yet  he  could  not  love  it. 


ON   WITCH'S  CRAG.  69 

Since  his  father's  death  its  atmosphere  had  not 
been  congenial  to  him.  There  were  times  when 
this  feeling  was  so  strong  within  him  that  it  seemed 
impossible  that  he  could  remain  there  longer;  but 
his  promise  to  his  dying  father  held  him. 

Not,  however,  beyond  his  majority.  Now  that 
he  had  reached  the  age  of  one-and-twenty,  he  was 
free  to  go  where  he  pleased.  What  should  hold  him 
after  that?  Ah!  he  was  on  his  way  to  the  attrac- 
tion at  that  very  moment.  The  bond  that  held  him 
was  not  at  the  cottage. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
ON  WITCH'S  CRAG. 

WHEN  Percy  reached  the  castle  he  found  Cordelia 
all  ready  for  her  ramble,  with  her  maid  in  waiting  to 
attend  her.  Mary  Seymour  was  this  maid's  name, 
a  cheery-faced,  intelligent,  pretty  girl,  just  a  year 
older  than  was  her  mistress.  She  had  flaxen  hair 
and  blue  eyes — eyes  full  of  good-nature  and  frolic ; 
straightforward,  truthful  and  honest. 

The  friendship  between  Percy  Maitland,  the  smug- 
gler's son,  and  the  daughter  of  Sir  William  Chester 
was  something  curious.  It  had  commenced  within  a 
month  after  the  girl's  first  appearance  at  Aller- 
dale — shortly  before  she  had  completed  her  twelfth 
year  of  life. 

One  of  the  first  impressions  made  upon  the  baro- 


70  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

net,  after  he  had  accepted  a  home  at  the  castle,  had 
been  in  relation  to  the  earl's  grandson — Matthew 
Brandon — who,  as  we  remember,  had  then  entered 
upon  his  sixteenth  year;  or  he  was  about  entering 
upon  it  when  the  baronet  and  his  daughter  arrived. 

Instinctively — in  spite  of  his  love  and  esteem  for 
the  boy's  noble  father;  in  spite  of  his  love  and  deep 
reverence  for  the  good  old  grandfather,  he  con- 
ceived a  strong,  shuddering  dislike  toward  that  boy. 
He  fought  against  it,  but  without  avail. 

Under  these  circumstances  little  Cordelia  chanced 
to  fall  in  with  Percy  Maitland,  and  a  mutual  attach- 
ment, as  strong  and  enduring  as  it  was  sudden  and 
unbidden,  was  the  result. 

Percy  took  her  in  his  boat,  and  led  her  by  the  banks 
of  the  river,  and  taught  her  to  fish,  and  he  guided 
her  through  the  wild  passes  of  the  crag,  and  gathered 
for  her  all  the  beautiful  flowers  he  could  find. 

At  length  the  boy  of  the  stone  cottage  came 
under  the  eye  of  Sir  William.  Cordelia  brought 
him.  She  had  told  so  much  about  him  that  her 
father  had  become  eager  to  see  and  know  him. 

In  a  very  short  time  the  keen-eyed,  observing 
baronet  had  read  the  boy's  character  without  mis- 
take. In  fact,  it  was  one  of  those  characters — and 
the  character  was  written  on  a  face  and  stamped  in  a 
voice — which  could  not  be  mistaken. 

And  the  baronet  had,  from  the  very  first,  felt  it  in 
his  heart  to  thank  his  good  fortune  that  had  brought 
such  a  companion  and  playmate  for  his  sweet  child : 
and  when,  later,  he  had  discovered  that  the  low- 


ON   WITCH'S  CRAG.  71 

born  boy  was  competent  to  teach  all  that  his  loved 
one  could  wish  to  know,  his  thankfulness  was  in- 
creased to  a  degree  that  rendered  him  happily  con- 
tent. 

And  so,  as  we  have  already  seen,  matters  had  gone 
on  during  the  few  remaining  months  of  the  parent's 
life.  And  since  that  time  there  had  been  no  change. 
Percy  had  remained  the  lady's  true  and  loyal 
knight,  teaching  her  all  that  she  knew  of  school 
studies,  and  attending  faithfully  upon  her  whenever 
need  required,  or  opportunity  offered.  In  truth,  the 
earl  had  appointed  the  youth  to  the  post  of  teacher. 

When  the  question  had  arisen  concerning  a  resi- 
dent tutor  for  the  young  girl,  she  had  herself  de- 
cided. She  had  put  her  foot  down  emphatically,  and 
had  said : 

"I  will  have  Percy  Maitland  for  my  tutor,  and 
none  other." 

And  the  earl  had  not  disputed  her.  Really,  he  did 
not  want  a  strange  tutor  beneath  his  roof;  he  did 
not  want  the  trouble  of  selecting,  with  a  chance,  in 
the  end,  that  he  might  be  cheated. 

The  men  in  every  way  competent  and  morally 
qualified  to  teach  a  beautiful  young  lady,  like  his 
sweet  ward,  were  not  plenty.  So  it  was,  truly,  a 
source  of  great  relief  to  him  when  it  had  been  finally 
decided  that  young  Maitland  should  be  her  tutor. 

And  so  matters  had  gone  on  from  that  time.  If 
the  old  earl  had  ever  asked  himself  if  mischief,  or 
trouble,  could  possibly  come  from  it,  he  had  not 
made  the  query  manifest  to  others.  Everything 


72  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

went  so  evenly,  so  smoothly,  and  so  happily,  that  he 
had  not  the  heart  to  disturb  it. 

With  regard  to  Matthew,  the  young  Lord  Oak- 
leigh,  he  was  at  home  but  little.  It  had  been  from 
the  first  his  desire  that  he  should  attend  school,  with 
friends  whom  he  loved,  at  Oxford ;  and  his  grand- 
father had  not  flatly  refused  him,  though  he  had 
seriously  objected. 

Knowing  the  boy's  character  as  he  did — knowing 
how  prone  he  was  to  error,  how  untruthful  he  could 
be  and  how  easily  he  gave  way  to  passion — knowing 
this,  the  earl  had  felt  it  to  be  his  duty  to  keep  the 
lad  at  home  if  he  could. 

But  it  was  not  to  be.  On  the  first  occasion  when 
he  had  asserted  his  authority,  and  kept  master 
Matthew  within  the  castle  walls  against  his  will,  he 
had  run  away  at  night,  and  had  remained  away  two 
months  and  more,  and  before  he  went  he  had  robbed 
his '  grandfather's  strong  box  of  a  large  amount  of 
money  in  gold.  After  that  the  earl  had  surrendered, 
and  the  boy  had  been  suffered  to  lead  his  own  life 
after  his  own  will  and  pleasure. 

One  thing,  and  one  only,  gave  the  old  man  a  grain 
of  comfort :  his  grandson  seemed  desirous  to  gain  a 
good  education ;  and  so  long  as  the  boy  was  at  Ox- 
ford, at  his  studies,  he  would  try  to  be  content.  Ah ! 
if  Lord  Allerdale  could  have  known  the  character 
and  extent  of  the  youth's  studies,  it  might  have  been 
different ! 

At  the  age  of  eighteen  Matthew  had  entered  one 
of  the  best  colleges,  or,  at  least,  he  professed  so  to 


ON   WITCH'S  CRAG.  73 

have  done,  and  the  time  for  his  graduation  was  now 
near  at  hand. 

Touching  the  matter  of  money,  he  had  plenty  to 
spend ;  more,  in  fact,  than  he  should  have  had,  but 
his  father  had  left  him  a  goodly  sum.  He  had  also 
inherited  from  his  mother,  so  his  guardian,  as  the  less 
of  two  evils,  had  let  him  have  about  all  he  had  asked 
for.  The  greater  evil,  which  the  earl  could  not  have 
put  away,  was  debt. 

During  his  visits  to  the  castle,  from  first  to  last, 
Lord  Oakleigh  had  given  Cordelia  but  little  trouble ; 
though  he  sometimes  looked  at  her  in  a  manner  that 
made  her  afraid.  And  he  had  once  let  fall  a  remark 
that  she  could  not  forget.  It  had  been  about  a  year 
previous  to  the  time  of  which  we  are  now  writing. 
He  had  been  at  home  on  the  autumnal  vacation. 

One  day  he  met  Cordelia  in  one  of  the  halls,  alone, 
and  offered  to  kiss  her.  She  pushed  him  away 
angrily,  and  bade  him,  with  quivering  lips  and  flash- 
ing eyes,  never  to  repeat  the  offense. 

He  laughed  at  her,  seeming  to  enjoy  her  spiteful- 
ness,  as  he  called  it ;  and  he  said  to  her,  with  signifi- 
cant nod,  and  a  look  straight  into  her  eyes : 

"Don't  be  afraid  of  me,  my  pretty  one.  I  should 
be  a  fool  to  harm  you,  seeing  that  you  are  my  own. 
Look  sharp,  Cordelia.  Be  sure  you're  ready  when  I 
call  for  you !" 

And  with  that  he  had  turned  away,  and  had  never 
alluded  to  the  subject  since ;  but  our  heroine  was 
very  sure  he  thought  of  it,  and  it  worried  and  fretted 
her  exceedingly. 


74  THE  SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

They  set  forth,  a  happy,  merry  trio — Cordelia, 
Percy,  and  Mary — the  latter  being  regarded  as  a 
dear  companion  rather  than  as  a  servant. 

The  distance  from  the  castle  to  the  foot  of  Witch's 
Crag  was  a  full  mile,  perhaps  a  little  more.  Two- 
thirds  of  the  way  lay  through  the  park,  the  remain- 
der being  woods. 

The  day  had  thus  far  been  clear  and  bright.  With 
the  coming  of  noon  it  had  grown  to  be  very  warm — 
almost  too  warm  for  September — but  a  gentle  breeze 
fanned  their  cheeks  and  gave  them  comfort. 

The  course  they  were  pursuing  was  toward  the 
north.  If  there  were  clouds  rising  beyond  the  crag 
they  did  not  see  them.  And  had  they  seen  them 
they  would  have  taken  no  alarm. 

"We  must  visit  the  old  chapel  of  the  monks!" 
said  Cordelia,  as  they  were  entering  the  forest. 

"Certainly,"  responded  Percy.  "A  visit  to  the 
Witch's  Crag,  without  paying  one's  respects  to  the 
memory  of  the  old  Franciscans,  would  seem  almost 
sacrilegious." 

Accordingly,  when  half-way  through  the  wood, 
they  turned  into  a  path  that  swerved  to  the  right, 
which  they  followed  to  the  foot  of  the  crag.  They 
had  seen  the  wonderful  mass  of  ragged  rock  many 
times,  yet  they  viewed  it  now  in  awe  and  wonder. 

There  it  arose  before  them,  a  steep,  wild  ascent  of 
broken,  jagged  rocks — ledge  on  ledge  and  bowlder 
on  bowlder — until,  at  the  summit,  a  height  of  600 
feet  above  sea  level  was  reached. 

And  on  that  south  side,  which  our  adventurers  had 


OX    WITCH'S  CRAG.  75 

approached,  the  acclivity  was  bold  and  abrupt.  To- 
ward the  west,  as  we  remarked  in  the  beginning,  it 
sloped  down  gradually,  its  foot  a  mile  and  a  half 
from  the  top,  reaching  to  the  water's  edge.  But 
the  rugged  rise  of  the  crag  was  not  all  of  interest 
their  eyes  looked  upon. 

Bearing  to  the  right,  a  short  distance  up  the  rough 
ascent,  was  seen  what,  at  first  sight,  appeared  to  be 
a  mass  of  rock,  thus  quaintly  piled  up  by  some  won- 
derful convulsion  of  nature ;  but,  upon  nearer  view, 
it  was  found  to  be  the  work  of  human  hands. 

It  was  a  solid,  massive  structure;  its  walls  built 
from  the  rock  of  the  crag ;  large  enough  to  comfort- 
ably accommodate  three  to  four  hundred  people 
within. 

It  was  oblong  in  form :  the  walls  were  not  far  from 
fifteen  feet  in  height:  its  roof — its  most  wonderful 
part — being  a  massive  arch,  formed  of  large  blocks  of 
stone  hewn  to  the  required  form  for  the  purpose. 

Its  broad  doorway  was  an  open  arch  toward  the 
south,  and  on  the  sides  were  six  arched  openings  for 
windows,  with  the  brazen  frames  and  leaden  mullions 
of  the  casements  intact ;  but  there  were  no  panes — 
no  signs  of  glass  to  be  seen. 

How  many  years  the  structure  had  stood  there 
none  could  tell.  Tradition  told  that  a  fraternity 
of  Franciscans — gray  friars — had  once  occupied  a 
monastery  near  where  the  castle  now  stood ;  and 
that  they  had  erected  this  chapel  as  an  offering  to 
St.  Francis,  whose  effigy,  in  stone,  had  stood  near 
the  altar,  while  they  had  occupied  it. 


76  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

How  many  years  it  had  stood  there,  none  could 
tell;  yet  its  wall,  and  its  wonderful  roof,  were  as 
tight,  as  impervious  to  water,  as  ever.  At  the  open 
windows,  and  at  the  deep  arch  of  the  vestibule,  the 
storm  could  find  entrance ;  but  nowhere  else. 

Our  three  adventurers  entered  the  chapel  and 
looked  around.  The  altar,  at  the  end  opposite  the 
entrance,  was  a  single  stone  set  against  the  rear  wall. 

It  was  four  feet  high  by  about  five  feet  wide,  and 
three  feet  deep  from  front  to  rear.  In  a  far  corner 
at  the  other  end,  toward  the  door,  were  a  dozen  or 
more  square  blocks  of  stone  that  had  evidently  been 
intended  for  seats. 

In  those  old  times,  and  amongst  those  old  friars,  it 
was  not  deemed  necessary  that  a  worshiper  should 
sit  while  holding  communion  with  Jehovah;  and 
seats,  as  a  general  thing,  were  not  provided. 

These  few  granite  blocks  might  have  been  designed 
for  the  sick,  lame,  or  aged,  who  could  not  stand.  As 
they  left  the  chapel  Percy  looked  at  his  watch,  a  re- 
liable time-piece  his  father  had  brought  to  him  from 
France,  and  found  it  to  be  almost  three  'oclock. 

"Shall  we  have  time  to  go  to  the  top  of  the  crag?" 
he  asked,  with  a  shade  of  anxiety  on  his  face. 

"Oh,  yes !  yes !  We  shall  have  plenty  of  time — 
four  hours,  at  least." 

"It  will  be  very  dark  in  four  hours  from  now,  dear 
lady." 

"Time  enough.  Oh,  I  must  see  the  top ;  and  the 
view  out  to  sea !  You  shall  know  how  fast  I  can 
walk." 


ON   WITCH'S  CRAG.  77 

'  Percy  smiled  and  nodded  assent,  and  on  they  went. 
It  was  a  wild,  rugged  road,  but  more  in  the  seeming 
than  in  fact,  for  the  experienced  guide,  who  had 
traversed  the  crag  in  every  direction  from  earliest 
childhood,  knew  every  inch  of  the  way,  and  was  able 
to  follow  a  path  almost  as  easy  of  ascent  as  would 
have  been  the  climbing  of  a  grassy  slope  of  the  same 
inclination. 

By  and  by  they  came  to  a  stretch  of  path  which 
was  restful — a  grand  aisle,  with  perpendicular  walls 
towering  aloft  on  either  hand ;  the  floor  of  which 
was  very  smooth  and  even,  and  wide  enough  to  allow 
two  persons  to  walk  abreast,  with  room  to  spare. 

In  reaching  this  point,  they  had  climbed  an  ascent 
where  our  hero  had  given  to  Cordelia  his  hand ;  and 
he  continued  to  hold  it  after  the  need  had  passed. 

Mary  was  several  yards  in  the  rear,  and  seemed 
inclined  to  remain  so. 

For  a  time  the  two  in  advance  had  been  silent. 
The  sublimity  of  the  scene  around  them  had  in- 
spired them. 

Presently  Cordelia  looked  up,  with  a  new  light  in 
her  eyes  and  a  new  look  on  her  beautiful  face.  A 
new  thought  had  possessed  her — a  thought  that 
sent  a  tremor  to  her  heart,  imparting  a  perceptible 
quiver  to  her  lips. 

"Percy !"  she  said,  withdrawing  her  hand  from  his 
grasp  and  transferring  it  to  his  arm,  where  it  clung 
trustingly.  "Percy!  what  did  you  mean  by  what 
you  said  to  me  last  evening  when  you  asked  me  to 
look  when  you  worked  out  that  matter  of  interest?" 


78  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

He  looked  at  her  with  surprise,  and  his  look  plain, 
ly  asked  her  to  what  she  referred. 

"Don't  you  remember?"  she  said,  in  answer  to  his 
silent  question.  "You  said  I  shouldn't  have  you  al- 
ways to  help  me ;  and — and — Percy — you  spoke  as 
though  I  might  not  have  you  a  great  while.  Did 
you  mean  that?" 

The  girl's  look  and  tone — the  light  of  her  eyes, 
and  the  deep  feeling  unmistakably  stamped  on  her 
face,  would  have  caused  a  colder,  sterner,  and  a  dul- 
ler man  than  was  Percy  Maitland  to  pale  and  trem- 
ble. The  great  love  of  his  heart  was  never  so  near 
the  surface  before.  It  threatened,  almost,  to  burst 
the  bounds  of  sense  and  reason,  and  find  for  itself 
utterance. 

But  it  must  not  be.  The  pure,  gentle  girl  had 
trusted  him,  and  that  trust  he  would  not  betray. 

"Dear  lady,"  he  said,  as  soon  as  he  dared  venture 
his  voice,  "you  can  not  know  how  aimless  is  the  life  I 
now  lead.  I  gave  to  my  father,  when  he  lay  dying? 
a  solemn  promise  that  I  would  remain  with  my 
mother  until  I  was  one-and-twenty.  That  event  is 
past.  I  saw  the  dawning  of  my  twenty-second  year 
three  months  ago.  I  am  but  wasting  my  life  here." 

"Wasting — your — life!  Oh,  Percy!  Have  all 
the  months — the  years — been  wasted  that  you  have 
spent  in  helping  me?  What  should  I  do  if  you  were 
gone?" 

"Hush,  hush!  You  know  not  what  you  are 
saying." 

"Percy!     What  is  the  matter  with  you?     What 


ON   WITCH'S  CRAG.  79 

new  freak  have  you  taken  into  your  head  ?  Why  are 
you  so  eager  to  go  away  ?" 

Was  she  playing  with  him — trifling  with  his  heart  ? 
He  asked  himself  the  question,  and  then  bent  his 
gaze  upon  her  upturned  face.  Oh,  no,  no !  There  were 
tears  in  her  eyes,  and  on  her  face  a  soul-sent  prayer. 

What  could  she  mean?  How  much  dared  he  to 
speak?  A  curious  thought  occurred  to  him.  In  all 
the  years  he  had  known  her — through  all  their  inti- 
mate association — though  she  had  always  called  him 
by  his  Christian  name,  she  had  done  it  in  the  days  of 
childhood,  and  she  had  done  it  ever  since — in  all  that 
time  he  had  never  dared,  had  never  presumed,  to 
address  her  in  any  way  save  as  a  lady,  set  by  the 
rank  of  birth  high  above  him. 

In  the  early  days  he  had  been  old  enough,  with 
manly  feelings  enough,  to  respect  the  rank  she  held, 
and  he  had  felt  proud  that  he  was  admitted  to  her 
friendship. 

And  now  the  thought  came  to  him — an  audacious 
thought — that  he  would  call  her  as  her  grandfather 
called  her;  as  Lord  Oakleigh  was  permitted  to  call 
her.  He  would  do  it,  and  mark  the  result.  He  ex- 
pected it  would  startle  her;  most  likely,  offend  her; 
she  might  be  angry,  but  he  would  try  it. 

He  trembled  with  thought  of  the  daring;  but, 
after  a  time,  he  felt  that  his  voice  might  be  trusted. 
He  looked  down  upon  her — so  looked  that  her 
eyes  must  gaze  straight  into  his  own  when  she  lifted 
her  head,  and  then,  drawing  the  hand  upon  his  arm 
more  closely  to  his  side,  he  made  the  venture : 


8o  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

"Cordelia!" 

She  looked  up  quickly,  looked  up  with  a  joy  in 
her  face,  with  a  happiness  beaming  in  her  sparkling 
eyes,  such  as  the  youth  had  never  seen  there  before. 

Never  had  his  voice  sounded  so  softly  sweet 
in  her  ears,  never  had  she  heard  music  so  nearly 
divine.  She  clung  to  him  fondly,  and  expectantly, 
waiting  for  him  to  go  on. 

"Percy !"  she  whispered,  when  she  found  that  he 
would  speak  no  further.  "What  were  you  going 
to  say?" 

He  could  contain  himself  no  longer.  The  deep 
feelings  of  his  heart,  held  in  check  so  long,  were  to 
find  utterance  at  length.  But  he  had  a  thought  of  the 
maid  walking  behind  them,  and  was  guarded. 

"O  dear,  dear  lady!  Cordelia!  How  dared  I 
speak  that  name?  How  dared  I  call  you  as  those  of 
your  own  rank  in  life  call  you?  I  will  tell  you,  if  I 
may.  Shall  I  go  on?" 

"Yes,  yes;  go  on."  And  she  wound  her  arm  more 
closely  around  the  support  it  had  found. 

"I  spoke  that  name  for  a  test,  dear — " 

"Ah!  Have  a  care,  sir!"  she  broke  in,  as  his  voice 
hung  for  a  moment  in  choice  for  a  word,  and  she 
looked  up  archly,  with  something  in  her  eyes  that 
startled  him. 

"Cordelia!"  he  cried,  gazing  now  without  flinch- 
ing,"! can  not  believe  that  you  would  trifle  with  me. 
I  can  not  believe  that  you  could  find  it  in  your  heart 
to  make  light  of  the  holiest  feelings — the  purest  and 
loftiest  aspirations  of  my  soul.  Something  tells 


ON    WITCH'S  CRAG.  8 1 

me — I  see  it  in  your  face — in  your  kindly  smile — 
that  you  will  not  be  offended  if  I  confess  to  you 
the  one  deep  controlling  sentiment  of  my  heart.  I 
can  make  the  confession,  and  then  bid  you  farewell. 
Ah !  if — But  why  complain?  I  must  suffer.  And  yet 
I  would  not  lose  the  memory  of  this  blessed  hour  for 
all  the  world  beside !  Cordelia,  could  I  have  been 
with  you  all  these  years — so  intimate — our  compan- 
ionship so  close  and  trusting — could  I  have  lived 
through  it  all  without — without — loving  you?  Are 
you  very  angry?" 

She  looked  up,  and  smiled  divinely  through  her 
tears — looked  up,  and  clung  still  more  closely  to  his 
side. 

''Percy,  do  you  think  you  alone  have  the  capac- 
ity to  love?  Do  you  think  I  would  have  associated 
with  you  all  "these  years  if  I  had  not  found  in  you 
one  whom  I  could  honor  and  respect?  And,  dear 
Percy,  how  could  I  honor  and  respect  one  like  you, 
without  loving?" 

"Cordelia!  Oh,  do  not  let  me  mistake !  Do  you 
understand  me?  Do  you  know  what  my  love 
means?  Oh,  if  I  were  to  pour  out  the  whole  vol- 
ume of  my  love — " 

"Well — what  would  you  say?  Would  you  call  me 
by  another  name?" 

"Yes!     Yes!     Oh,  my  darling!  my  angel!" 

"Percy,"  looking  straight  up  into  his  eyes,  with  a 
wealth  of  love  in  her  beautiful  face  which  no  mortal 
could  have  doubted — "I  will  not  trifle;  I  will  not 
mince  words.  I  know  what  you  mean ;  and  when  I 


82  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

tell  you,  from  the  uttermost  depths  of  my  heart, 
that  your  words  have  made  me  happier  than  I  was 
before — happier  than  I  had  thought  I  could  ever 
be — when  I  tell  you  that,  you  will  know  that  I,  too, 
have  learned  to  love.  Oh,  Percy,  I  have  loved 
you  from  the  first ;  and  I  believe  it  has  been  the 
same  with  you." 

"Yes,  yes.  Oh,  how  I  have  loved  you,  Cor- 
delia !  But  I  had  never  dared  to  dream  of  this.  I 
can  scarcely  believe  it  even  now.  Shall  I  awake  and 
find  it  a  dream?" 

"If  the  dream  makes  you  as  happy  as  it  makes 
me,  dear  Percy,  I  can  only  say— dream  on." 

"Aye !     So  I  will.     But—" 

"But  what?" 

"The  earl !" 

"Look  ye,  my  own  dear  love,"  said  the  brave  girl, 
without  a  break  or  a  quiver  in  her  voice,  "  let  the 
earl  rest  for  the  present.  Let  us  become  more  used 
to  our  new-found  joy.  I  have  no  wish  to  deceive 
the  dear  old  man,  and  at  a  proper  time  I  shall  tell 
him.  I  expect  he  will  be  surprised ;  perhaps  disap- 
pointed ;  but  I  can  not  believe  he  will  be  angry.  At 
all  events  no  power  on  earth  shall  take  our  love  from 
us  nor  separate  us." 

"Oh,  Cordelia!" 

"Percy !" 

"God  grant  that  our  love  may  prosper!  Some- 
thing whispers  to  me  that  I  may  hope." 

"Yes,  dear  love,  hope,  and  trust  in  me.  I  will  for- 
sake  you  never,  never!" 


A    SPECTER  IN   THE  MONKS'    CHAPEL.          83 

Just   then  they    heard  the  footfall  of  the  maid 
drawing  near,  and  Cordelia  turned  to  speak  with  her. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

A  SPECTER  IN   THE  MONKS'  CHAPEL. 

WHILE  Cordelia  turned  to  speak  with  her  maid, 
our  hero,  having  shaken  himself  to  make  sure  that 
he  was  awake  and  in  possession  of  his  sober  senses, 
looked  forward  to  see  how  far  they  were  from  the 
summit  of  the  crag. 

It  was  close  at  hand — not  a  hundred  yards  distant. 
He  was  surprised.  He  had  supposed  it  still  a  long 
way  off.  But  his  surprise  vanished  when  he  had 
consulted  his  watch — half-past  four! 

"Mercy!  Dear  lady!  Do  you  know  what  time 
it  is?" 

"No.  I  have  not  thought  of  it." 

He  told  her;  but  she  was  not  alarmed.  Even 
though  it  should  be  dark  when  they  reached  the 
castle,  it  would  not  matter. 

"Not  if  the  weather  holds  fair,"  returned  the 
guide.  "I  don't  like  the  looks  of  those  clouds  rising 
away  to  the  eastward." 

"I  thought  storm-clouds  always  came  from  the 
sea." 

"No,  no.  Clouds  that  give  us  long  rains  generally 
come  from  that  direction ;  but,  if  you  will  remem- 
ber. I  think  you  will  find  that  our  severest  storms 


84  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

are  brewed  on  the  other  hand.  But  we  will  not 
complain  in  advance.  Ah !" 

"Oh!  Oh,  is  it  not  beautiful!"  It  was  Mary 
Seymour  who  had  thus  exclaimed. 

Her  mistress  stood,  drinking  in  the  scene  in  awe- 
struck silence.  The  sublimity  of  the  view  was  too 
great  for  her  poor  speech  to  do  it  justice.  And 
Percy  was  also  silent.  The  single  interjection  had 
burst  from  him  as  his  eyes  first  took  in  the  grand 
panorama,  and  that  was  all. 

The  sea;  the  many  islands;  the  long  stretch  of 
rugged  coast;  the  beautiful  park;  the  old  castle; 
the  forest;  the  silvery  lakelets,  and  the  sparkling 
streams — altogether,  it  was  a  picture  well  worth 
climbing  to  see.  Cordelia  gazed  her  fill — gazed 
until  the  first  whelming  emotions  of  awe  were  past, 
and  then  pointed  out  certain  points  with  regard  to 
which  she  wished  for  information.  Her  guide  ex- 
plained all  he  could — told  her  all  he  knew ;  and  at 
length  suggested  that  they  had  better  be  thinking 
of  home. 

"But  the  flowers!  You  promised  me  I  should 
have  them,"  insisted  Cordelia.  She  was  playful  in 
her  manner,  yet  earnest. 

"Will  you  take  time  for  that,  lady?  They  are 
somewhat  out  of  our  way ;  but  you  shall  have  them, 
if  you  say  so." 

"Oh!  never  mind  the  time.  A  little  twilight 
won't  harm  us.  Let's  have  the  flowers." 

Evidently  she  was  determined  to  prolong  the 
walk,  and,  had  it  not  been  for  those  threatening 


A    SPECTER  fJV   THE  MONKS'    CHAPEL.          85 

clouds,  her  guide  would  have  liked  it  as  well  as 
she. 

"Dear  lady — I  tell  you,  truly,  I  do  not  like  the 
looks  of  those  clouds.  I'm  afraid  we  shall  have  rain 
before  we  get  home,  unless  we  make  all  possible 
haste." 

But  the  lady  insisted ;  and  the  guide  yielded.  A 
detour  was  made  to  the  eastward  and  the  flowers 
found  and  secured.  Cordelia  was  happy. 

She  had  wanted  the  sweet  little  treasures  of  scent 
and  blossom  for  a  long  time,  and  she  could  not 
thank  her  kind  guide  enough  for  his  goodness  in 
getting  them  for  her. 

"Fifteen  minutes  of  six!"  said  Percy,  in  a  tone  of 
hushed  anxiety.  "Oh!  what  would  I  give  for  a 
good  horse." 

"And,  what  would  you  do  with  a  single  horse, 
sir?"  the  lady  demanded,  quickl}'. 

"I  would  look  to  the  girths,  make  sure  all  was 
secure,  then  lift  you  to  its  back  and  start  you  home- 
ward, my  lady." 

"But,  dear  Percy,  do  you  really  feel  so  uneasy 
about  the  weather?" 

"I  do,  truly,  dear  lady.  Look  for  yourself.  If 
there  is  not  a  goodly  store  of  electricity  in  those 
clouds,  then  I  am  much  mistaken." 

"Well,  we  must  hurry.  You  will  let  me  take  your 
hand." 

He  put  forth  his  hand,  took  hers  in  a  warm,  loving 
grasp,  and  they  set  forward;  but  time  had  sped 


86  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

beyond  the  lady's  calculations,  or  beyond  her  belief, 
for  she  had  had  no  calculation  about  it. 

By  the  time  they  had  gained  half  the  distance 
down  the  rugged  slope  cool  gusts  of  wind  struck 
their  cheeks ;  the  clouds  had  become  so  dense  and 
so  completely  covered  the  firmament  as  to  bring 
night  on  prematurely. 

And  that  was  not  the  worst.  Pretty  soon  a  vivid 
stream  of  fire  shot  athwart  the  dark  vault,  and  a 
crash  of  thunder  followed  almost  immediately. 

"Courage,  courage !"  said  Percy.  "The  old  chapel 
is  close  at  hand.  We  shall  find  good  shelter  there." 

"Oh!  Just  think,  dear  lady,"  said  the  maid,  who 
had  drawn  nearer  the  strong  man  since  the  lightning 
bolt.  "We  haven't  touched  the  luncheon  I  have  in 
the  basket." 

"Oho,  it  grows  heavy,  does  it,  Mary?" 

"No,  no ;  that  isn't  it.  And  yet,"  she  confessed, 
after  a  momentary  pause,  "it  is  pretty  heavy,  come 
to  carry  it  so  far." 

"Well,  we'll  empty  it  at  the  chapel." 

But  Percy  took  the  basket  into  his  own  hand, 
despite  the  maid's  earnest  protestations,  and  he 
found  it  heavier  than  he  had  thought.  It  was  but 
as  a  feather  to  him,  but  he  could  feel  that  it  must 
have  pulled  on  the  weak  girl  during  so  long  a  walk. 

"Ho!     There  it  is'" 

"Aye,  and  here  is  the  rain." 

It  was  the  chapel  which  Cordelia  had  discovered, 
and  they  reached  it  with  not  a  moment  to  spare, 
for  scarcely  had  Mary  crossed  the  threshold  when 


A    SPECTER  IN   THE  MONKS*    CHAPEL.          87 

the  rain  came  down  in  a  torrent.  As  the  maid 
expressed  it,  with  more  of  truth  than  poetry — 
it  came  down  "like  they  were  pouring  it  out  of  a 
tub." 

But  they  had  found  perfect  shelter,  though  some- 
what gloomsome.  Percy  selected  three  of  the  most 
comfortable  seats  he  could  find,  and  he  did  not  have 
occasion  to  move  them. 

They  were  already  in  the  corner  farthest  away 
from  the  storm — in  a  corner  between  the  arch  of  the 
vestibule  and  the  first  window  on  the  easterly  side. 
And  there  in  the  deepening  gloom  Cordelia 
opened  the  basket,  and  took  out  a  portion  of  the 
provisions  she  had  with  her  own  hands  packed  into 
it.  She  had  brought  but  one  drinking-cup,  but  it 
answered  every  purpose. 

"We  can  call  it  "the  Loving  Cup,"  suggested  the 
maid,  little  dreaming  what  chords  she  was  touching 
to  tuneful  response  in  the  bosoms  of  her  two  com- 
panions. 

But  the  others  knew,  as  a  hidden  hand-grasp  tes- 
tified. 

"Now,  mark!"  commanded  the  lady,  as  Percy 
began  to  express  his  regrets  at  the  unfortunate  sit- 
uation of  the  two  women,  "Mark  what  I  say,  and 
remember,  we  will  have  not  a  word  of  fault-finding, 
not  a  word  of  complaint.  Here  we  are,  and  here  we 
must  make  the  best  of  it.  It  is  all  my  fault,  every 
bit  and  grain  of  it,  and  I  am  willing  to  bear  the 
blame ;  but  don't  blame  me  too  severely." 

"Mercy!  how  it  pours!"  exclaimed  the  maid.     "I 


88  THE  SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

am  only  thinking — how  shall  we  ever  find  the  way 
home  in  pitch  darkness?" 

Percy  said,  cheerfuly,  he  thought  there  would  be 
no  trouble  about  that.  "These  sort  of  storms,"  he 
went  on,  "are  not  of  long  duration.  The  clouds  will 
soon  pass  off  when  the  rain  is  done  falling,  and  then 
we'll  have  a  moon  within  a  day  or  two  of  its  full  to 
light  us  on  our  homeward  way.  My  only  serious 
thought  is  of  the  good  old  earl." 

"Hush!"  cried  the  law-giver,  with  a  light  laugh. 
"That  is  complaint,  and  is  forbidden.  I  will  make 
it  all  right  with  dear  old  grandpa." 

The  rain  continued  to  fall  in  a  torrent,  ever  and 
anon  the  lightning  gleamed  and  the  thunder  came 
crashing  down  upon  the  solid  roof. 

The  adventurers  had  eaten  their  luncheon  and 
Mary  had  carefully  packed  the  empty  dishes  back 
into  the  basket,  by  which  time  the  darkness  had 
shut  them  in  like  a  pall.  The  blackest  midnight 
could  not  have  been  darker. 

Mary  Seymour  had  found  a  seat  at  Percy's  feet, 
and,  despite  the  terrific  voices  of  the  storm,  was 
inclined  to  sleep.  The  long  walk,  the  weight  of  the 
basket,  and,  moreover,  the  soporific  influence  of  the 
atmosphere,  had  completely  overcome  her,  and,  with 
the  basket  for  a  pillow,  she  was  ere  long  soundly 
asleep. 

Percy  held  his  watch  in  his  hand,  waiting  for  the 
next  gleam  of  heaven's  light,  and  when  it  came  he 
saw  that  it  was  close  upon  seven  o'clock. 

The  sun  had  been  gone  little  more  than  half  an 


A    SPECTER  IN   THE  MONKS'   CHAPEL.          89 

hour.  Cordelia  nestled  close,  held  firmly  in  his  lov- 
ing embrace.  And  here,  and  thus,  they  exchanged 
the  first  sweet,  ecstatic  kiss  of  love. 

"Oh,  Percy !  What  would  life  be  without  your 
dear  companionship,  without  your  blessed  love?" 

"My  love,  darling,  you  will  always  possess.  No 
power  on  earth  can  take  it  from  you.  It  is  yours 
now  and  forevermore." 

"And  your  dear  self  with  it,  sweet  love." 

"Heaven  send  it  may  be  so." 

"Amen !  and  amen !" 

After  this  they  sat  for  a  time  in  silence,  their 
thoughts  too  deep  for  words.  Her  head  was  pil- 
lowed on  his  bosom,  and  /iis  strong  arm  encircled  her. 

What  need  was  there  of  further  speech?  The 
silence  was  eloquent;  and  the  crashing  thunder, 
when  it  fell,  was  as  grand  music  in  their  ears. 

By  and  by  the  patter  of  the  rain  upon  the  roof 
grew  less;  but,  as  the  rain  held  up,  the  lightning 
seemed  to  come  more  frequently  and  with  increased 
brilliancy.  Oh,  how  dark  it  was  when  the  fire  of 
heaven  had  gone  out ! 

Several  minutes  had  passed  thus  after  the  rain  had 
commenced  to  slacken,  and  the  furious  blast  that 
had  accompanied  the  first  flood  had  died  away,  when 
our  hero  was  startled  and  his  heart  caused  to  bound 
suddenly  by  the  unmistakable  sound  of  a  footfall 
without.  It  was  the  fall  of  a  human  foot  upon  the 
surface  of  rock  in  front  of  the  chapel ! 

"Hush!"'  he  whispered,  as  he  felt  his  companion 
start  and  nestle  more  closely  to  him. 


90  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

"Oh,  Percy!  What  can  it  be?  Is  it  somebody  in 
search  of  us?" 

"No ;  I  think  not.  They  would  have  scarcely  had 
time  since  the  storm  arose.  Hush!  Promise  me, 
darling,  that  you  will  utter  no  cry  of  alarm,  let  it  be 
who  or  what  it  may.  They  may  not  discover  us  in 
this  corner  if  we  keep  perfectly  quiet.  Ah!  Hush! 
Not  a  lisp !" 

The  footstep — a  heavy  one — was  upon  the 
threshold,  and  a  faint  glimmer  of  light,  seeming  to 
come  from  the  dingy  lens  of  a  dark  lantern,  shot 
into  the  chapel  with  just  power  enough  to  render 
the  surrounding  darkness  visible. 

A  human  figure  entered ;  a  figure  tall,  erect,  and 
apparently  bulky.  The  lantern  was  carried  in  the 
right  hand,  with  its  lens  turned  toward  the  rear  of 
the  place — toward  the  altar — in  which  direction  the 
figure  moved. 

Cordelia's  breath  was  almost  hushed;  and  she 
clung  to  her  dear  lover  closely  and  with  perfect 
trust. 

Nothing  like  a  cry — not  even  a  loud  breath — had 
escaped  her. 

The  figure — only  one  had  entered — had  reached  a 
point  directly  opposite  the  place  where  our  advent- 
urers sat,  when  a  terrific  crash  fell  that  shook  the 
structure  from  its  massive  roof  to  its  foundation; 
and  following  close  upon  it  came  a  flood  of  light, 
filling  the  old  chapel  with  a  blaze  as  of  noonday ; 
and  the  light  enveloped  the  new-comer  as  in  a  glow- 
ing halo. 


A   SPECTER  IN   THE  MONKS'    CHAPEL.          91 

And  this  is  what  Percy  Maitland  saw — saw  it  as 
plainly  and  clearly  as  he  ever  saw  anything  in  his 
life: 

A  man,  tall  and  stalwart,  in  the  robe  of  a  gray 
friar,  with  the  cowl  drawn  only  partially  over  his 
head.  And  the  face — Oh!  what  did  it  mean? 

It  was  his  father's  face! — the  face  of  Hugh  Mait- 
land, as  he  remembered  it,  in  its  manly  strength  and 
vigor. 

It  was  only  for  a  moment — for  two  or  three  sec- 
onds— and  then  the  darkness  fell  again  and  the  poor 
glimmer  of  the  lantern  appeared  no  more  than  the 
glow  of  a  fire-fly.  Only  for  one  poor  moment ;  yet 
had  he  looked  for  an  hour  he  could  not  have  seen  it 
more  distinctly. 

If  ever  he  saw  his  father's  face,  he  was  sure  he 
saw  it  then  under  that  gray  cowl.  Or  it  had  been 
something  so  nearly  resembling  it  that  the  distinc- 
tion could  not  be  traced? 

And  still,  with  wildly  beating  heart,  he  listened. 
He  heard  the  footfall,  and  he  saw  the  ghostly  glim- 
mer of  the  lantern ;  the  gray  friar  was  approaching 
the  altar. 

Suddenly  the  light  disappeared.  A  moment  later 
the  watcher  heard  a  low,  rumbling  sound,  and  then 
all  was  still. 

By  and  by  another  bolt  of  thunder  fell,  and  a 
flood  of  electric  light  filled  the  chapel.  Both  Percy 
and  Cordelia  peered  with  all  their  might  into  the  far 
end  of  the  place ;  but  the  friar  had  gone ! 

The  altar  was  there  and  the  solid  wall  behind  it, 


92  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

and  that  was  all.  The  strange  intruder  had  disap- 
peared as  though  the  stone  pavement  had  opened 
and  swallowed  him  up ! 

"Percy !"  whispered  the  trembling  girl,  as  soon  as 
she  dared  to  trust  her  voice  above  her  breath, 
"What  was  it?  Who  was  it?" 

"Darling,  I  do  not  know.     I  am  lost  in  wonder." 

"But  where  did  he  go?  I  certainly  saw  him,  close 
by  the  altar.  I  saw  the  lantern  when  it  cast  its 
feeble  rays  on  the  dark  rock.  Where  could  he  have 
gone  to?" 

"Dear  girl,  I  can  not  imagine.  But  we  may 
henceforth  be  able  to  better  understand  the  peas- 
ants' earnest  stories  of  the  place  being  haunted. 
You  have  heard  them?" 

"Yes,  yes,  often ;  and  have  laughed  at  them. 
But,"  after  a  pause,  "is  not  the  solution  a  greater 
puzzle  than  were  the  ghosts?" 

"Verily,  dear  girl,  it  is  even  so.  Aye,  it  is  a  puz- 
zle ;  and  it  must,  I  fear,  remain  a  puzzle,  until  we 
can  gain  more  light  than  we  are  likely  to  receive 
to-night." 

He  would  not  tell  her  of  the  greatest  marvel  of  all 
to  himself.  What  to  think  of  it  he  did  not  know. 
His  mind  was  in  a  whirl. 

He  must  have  time  to  consider.  He  knew  his 
father  was  dead ;  for  he  had  sat  by  his  dying  bed, 
and  had  held  his  hand  while  he  breathed  his  last, 
and  had  seen  the  mortal  body  buried  in  its  mother 
earth. 

So,  it  could  not  be  his  father  in  the  flesh  he  had 


A    SPECTER  IN   THE  MONKS'    CHAPEL.          93 

seen  roaming  in  that  old  chapel,  with  a  dark  lantern 
in  his  hand.  As  to  its  being  his  father's  ghost  or 
spirit,  that  was  to  him  simply  monstrous. 

Even  admitting  that  the  return  of  a  spirit  could 
be  possible,  the  spirit  of  his  father  would  have  been 
engaged  in  no  such  nocturnal  escapade. 

Could  there  be  another  man — a  man  amongst  the 
living — with  his  father's  face?  A  wonderful  like- 
ness, like  that,  offered  the  most  satisfactory  solution 
of  the  marvel.  But  who  could  it  be?  If  su^h  a 
man  lived,  and  was  familiar  with  that  part  of  the 
country,  why  had  he  never  seen  him  before? 

But — where  was  the  use?  Puzzle  and  conjecture 
as  he  would,  he  could  come  no  nearer  to  the 
truth.  The  only  thing  to  do  was  to  take  time; 
keep  his  eyes  and  ears  open,  and  search.  And 
one  thing  which  he  meant  to  search  was  this  very 
chapel. 

Almost  before  they  were  aware  of  it  the  rain  had 
ceased  to  fall,  and  a  low  murmur  of  thankfulness  fell 
from  Cordelia's  lips  as  she  saw  a  stream  of  silvery 
moonlight  on  the  chapel  floor. 

Aye,  the  clouds  were  rolling  away  and  the  bright 
moon,  near  its  full,  looked  forth  right  cheerily  from 
the  eastern  sky,  casting  light  enough  through  the 
three  tall  windows  on  that  side  to  illumine  the 
chapel  very  clearly.  At  all  events,  the  stone  altar 
was  plainly  visible,  and  all  the  adjacent  wall. 

"Cordelia,  the  man  whom  we  saw — the  gray  friar — 
must  have  found  a  way  out  somewhere  near  the 
altar.  Shall  we  look?" 


94  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

"You  do  not  think  he  can  be  lurking  near?"  she 
asked. 

"No,  no ;  there  can  be  no  danger  of  that.  Be  sure, 
he  was  seeking  a  place  of  hiding  when  he  entered 
here.  Darling!"  he  added,  after  a  considerable 
pause,  during  which  he  had  appeared  to  be  thinking 
deeply,  "I  think  I  can  tell  you  something  new.  It 
has  come  to  me  since  we  saw  the  moonbeam  on  the 
pavement. 

"Listen;  I  remember — but  I  had  forgotten  it 
completely — I  remember,  when  I  was  but  a  small 
boy — certainly  not  more  than  eight  or  ten  years 
old — of  hearing  my  father,  in  conversation  with  his 
chief  mate,  old  Donald  Rodney,  mention  the  Monk's 
Chapel;  and  I  am  very  sure  that  at  that  time  he 
was  trying  to  persuade  Donald  to  go  with  him  and 
explore.  Of  course,  I  can't  remember  their  words, 
nor  anywhere  near  thereto;  yet  I  am  confident  that 
1  am  not  mistaken  about  the  object  my  father  had 
in  view. 

"Cordelia,  he  believed  there  were  secret  crypts 
beneath  the  old  pile,  fashioned  when  it  was  built, 
and  he  wished  very  much  to  find  thent;  but  I  am 
very  sure  he  never  did  it.  He  probably  searched, 
and  had  to  give  it  up.  If  he  had  found  them  I 
should  have  known  it.  Aye,  as  sure  as  you  live, 
there  is  a  hidden  way  beneath  where  we  stand, 
and,  I  tell  you,  I  will  find  it  if  the  finding  is  pos- 
sible." 

"Oh,  you  will  be  careful,  Percy!  What  would 
become  of  me  if  harm  should  come  to  you?" 


A  SPECTER  IN  THE  MOXKS'  CHAPEL.    95 

"Have  no  fear.  Ah,  Mary  is  awake.  I  think 
we  had  better  not  tell  her  of  what  we  have  seen." 

"No,  we  will  tell  nobody,  until  we  have  gained 
further  knowledge.  Shall  it  be  so?" 

"Yes.  We  will  leave  it  at  that.  And  now  for 
home.  The  way  will  be  damp,  but  I  think  we  shall 
survive." 

The  maid,  when  she  had  collected  her  scattered 
senses,  and  had  called  to  mind  the  situation,  was 
agreeably  surprised  upon  finding  the  storm  at  an 
end,  and  the  moon  brightly  shining.  She  picked  up 
her  basket,  and  was  soon  ready,  with  the  others,  to 
set  forth  upon  the  homeward  way. 

They  encountered  several  pools  of  water  over 
which  Percy  was  obliged  to  carry  the  two  girls  in 
his  arms ;  but  nothing  serious  interposed  to  render 
the  return  at  all  unpleasant.  Fortunately  the  path 
through  the  woods  was  broad  and  open,  and  lay  in 
such  direction  that  the  monlight  fell  full  upon  it  for 
most  of  the  distance. 

They  had  reached  very  near  to  the  southern  ex- 
tremity of  the  wood,  and  our  hero  had  just  borne 
his  two  companions  across  the  last  pool,  when  their 
ears  were  saluted  by  loud  cries  and  shouts  of  dis- 
tress and  alarm,  and  a  little  later  the  glare  of  a 
dozen  torches,  in  full  blaze,  burst  upon  them. 

"Oh,  my  precious  lady,  are  you  alive?  Are  you 
safe?  Oh!  how  frightened  we  have  been."  So 
exclaimed  the  stout  old  steward,  Michael  Dillon, 
when  he  had  seen  his  young  mistress  in  the  flesh 
before  him.  And  the  glad  acclaim  of  the  party, 


96  THE  SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

when  they  knew  that  Cordelia  was  alive  and  well, 
told  how  deeply  and  truly  she  was  loved  by  the 
household  of  the  castle. 

There  were  twelve  men  in  the  party  which  our 
adventurers  had  thus  met;  and  two  other  parties 
had  gone  in  other  directions ;  but  they  were  small. 

The  larger  number  had  come  this  way,  because 
this  had  been  the  path  hit  upon  as  most  likely  to  be 
the  true  one. 

As  soon  as  old  Michael  had  made  sure  that  all 
was  well  with  the  dear  young  lady,  he  ordered  two 
heavily  charged  muskets  to  be  fired,  which  had  been 
brought  for  that  purpose,  to  inform  the  other  parties 
that  the  lost  one  had  been  found. 

He  next  dispatched  a  swift  runner  to  the  castle, 
with  information  to  the  earl  of  the  happy  ending  of 
the  search ;  and  then,  with  a  curious  mingling  of  joy 
and  pomposity,  he  issued  his  order  for  the  home- 
ward march. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

LORD   OAKLEIGH. 

ON  the  morning  following  her  strange  adventure 
in  the  chapel,  our  heroine  arose  with  the  lark,  not  a 
whit  the  worse  for  her  passage  through  the  storm. 

The  old  earl  had  suffered  terribly  when  the  tem- 
pest and  the  night  had  come,  and  his  darling  was 
known  to  be  absent  in  the  forest,  or  on  the  wild 
crag;  but  when  the  swift  messenger  had  brought 


LORD  OAK  LEIGH.  97 

him  the  glad  intelligence  of  her  safety,  his  fears 
departed ;  and  when  he  had  finally  held  her  in  his 
arms,  and  had  then  held  her  off  that  he  might  gaze 
into  her  beautiful  face  and  know  that  all  was  well 
with  her,  then  his  joy  was  great  indeed. 

When  it  was  all  so  happily  over  he  was  almost 
thankful  it  had  happened,  for  it  had  told  him  over 
again  how  dearly  he  loved  her  and  what  a  treasure 
she  was  to  him ! 

On  this  morning  the  girl  put  on  her  hat,  with  a 
light  mantle  over  her  shoulders,  thinking  to  take  a 
walk  in  her  garden  before  breakfast.  The  air  was 
fresh  and  pure  after  the  storm  and  not  at  all  chilly, 
and  the  autumnal  flowers  were  in  full  bloom. 

She  had  reached  the  place — an  inclosure  within 
the  outer  walls  of  the  castle — and  was  slowly  and 
thoughtfully  walking  in  one  of  the  graveled  paths, 
when  she  was  startled  by  the  sound  of  a  quick, 
heavy  footfall  behind  her,  and  on  turning  she  found 
herself  face  to  face  with  Matthew  Brandon — by 
courtesy  Lord  Oakleigh. 

He  was  not  a  pleasant  man  to  look  at,  and  yet 
many  might  have  called  him  good  looking — perhaps 
handsome.  If  he  had  any  beauty  it  was  of  the 
Mephistophelean  order.  He  was  tall  and  strong,  and 
dressed  in  a  costly  garb  of  embroidered  velvet  and 
satin. 

He  wore  a  large  diamond  in  his  shirt-front,  he  had 
fine  rings  on  two  or  three  fingers,  and  his  gold 
watch-chain  was  conspicuous. 

His  complexion  was  dark,  even  to  swarthiness ;  his 


98  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

hair  black  and  quite  short,  with  a  pair  of  eyes  now, 
as  in  his  boyhood,  set  very  near  together  and  deeply 
sunken  in  their  sockets. 

He  had  a  good  nose  but  his  lips  were  heavy  and 
sensual,  his  mouth  large,  and  his  lower  jaw  broad 
and  strong.  He  wore  no  beard,  but  his  cheeks  and 
his  chin  and  his  upper  lip,  where  the  razor  did  its 
work,  betrayed  the  possibility  of  a  beard,  black  and 
luxuriant,  had  he  been  willing  to  let  it  grow. 

A  friend  had  once  asked  him  how  it  was  that,  with 
such  a  chance  for  a  beard,  he  could  be  content  to 
sacrifice  it. 

"Oh!"  he  had  answered  with  a  laugh,  "I  am 
black  enough  as  it  is ;  should  I  add  a  coal-black 
beard,  I  should  be  blackness  incarnate." 

"Cordelia,"  he  said,  when  the  usual  salutations  of 
the  morning  had  been  exchanged,  "I  have  a  few 
words  to  say  to  you ;  and  I  have  come  out  here  this 
morning  to  say  them.  I  might  not  have  time 
after  breakfast,  as  I  must  return  to  Oxford  to-day." 

The  girl  had  stopped  in  her  walk  and  stood  facing 
him.  A  tremor,  which  she  could  not  repress,  shook 
her  frame ;  for  she  knew  very  well,  or  she  believed 
she  knew,  what  he  wished  to  speak  about. 

"I  am  listening,  Lord  Oakleigh." 

"Bah!  Why  do  you  eternally  'lord'  me?  I  don't 
like  it,  at  least  from  your  lips." 

"My  lord,  I  give  you  the  title  respectfully,  because 
it  is  yours.  I  can  call  you  by  your  Christian  name, 
if  you  wish  it." 

"I  do  wish  it:  and  I  wish  you  to  remember  it.     It 


LORD  OAKLEIGH.  99 

will  do  very  well  for  the  servants  to  dub  me  'lord* 
and  for  my  grandfather  when  he  is  in  the  mood ;  but 
I  don't  want  it  from  you."  He  paused  and  looked 
around. 

"Haven't  you  a  seat  anywhere  about  here?" 

"If  you  are  weary,  you  will  find  a  very  comfort- 
able seat  in  yonder  grape-arbor." 

"I'm  not  weary,  my  dear  lady ;  but  it  is  sometimes 
weary  work  to  converse  on  one's  feet.  Come  with 
me  to  the  arbor.  I  won't  keep  you  long.  Bless 
me !  I  hope  you're  not  afraid  of  me." 

She  was  afraid  of  him ;  but  she  would  not  confess 
it.  There  was  a  coarseness  in  his  manner ;  a  low- 
ness  in  his  speech,  his  clipping  and  contracting 
words  more  like  a  private  trooper  than  like  an  Eng- 
lish gentleman,  that  disgusted  her;  and  there  was  a 
look  in  -his  gleaming,  sunken  black  eyes  that  made 
her  afraid. 

She  presently  saw  that  he  would  take  her  hand  if 
she  hesitated  longer ;  so,  without  further  remark,  she 
turned  and  led  the  way  to  the  arbor  she  had  pointed 
out. 

It  was  a  small  affair  a  framework  of  wood,  over 
which  the  closely  interwoven  branches  and  tendrils 
of  a  number  of  stout  grape-vines  formed  a  complete 
covering,  with  plain  wooden  seats  on  three  of  its 
sides.  Cordelia  waited  until  Lord  Oakleigh  was 
seated ;  and  she  then  sat  down  on  the  opposite  side. 
She  had  struggled  bravely  to  compose  herself,  being 
determined  that  nothing  he  could  say  should  cause 
her  to  forget  herself  or  to  lose  her  temper. 


ioo  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

"Matthew,  it  is  nearer  to  the  breakfast  hour,  per- 
haps, than  you  think." 

"Oh !  don't  worry.  I  won't  take  long  to  say  the 
little  I  have  in  mind."  He  paused  here,  and  looked 
at  her  curiously.  Presently  he  went  on. 

"Cordelia — you  remember  I  once  told  you  that 
when  I  should  be  ready  to  speak  on  a  certain  sub- 
ject I  should  speak  plainly,  and  in  few  words;  and 
you  will  confess  that  from  that  time  I  have  given 
you  your  own  way,  so  far  as  I  have  been  concerned. 
I  have  not  sought  to  interfere  with  you  in  any  way, 
neither  in  regard  to  your  acts  nor  your  choice  of 
companions.  Ton  my  word !  I  think,  all  things 
considered,  that  I've  done  pretty  well,  don't 
you?" 

"Really,  my  lord,  I  can  not  imagine  to  what  cir- 
cumstance you  have  reference — what  things  you 
would  have  considered." 

"Can't  you?" 

"Indeed,  I  can  not." 

"Well,  look  here.  You  know  very  well  that  it 
was  the  earnest  desire  of  your  parents,  of  your  father 
and  of  mine,  that  you  and  I  should  grow  up  to  be 
husband  and  wife.  That  you  know." 

"That  I — do — not — know !"  the  girl  replied,  speak- 
ing slowly  and  with  strong  emphasis. 

"What!  You  don't  know?"  cried  Oakleigh, 
feigning  great  surprise.  "But  you  do  know.  You 
can  not  help  knowing.  I  tell  you — " 

"Stop!"  commanded  the  young  lady,  holding  up 
her  hand.  "Let  us  not  dispute.  Your  grandfather 


LORD  OAKLEIGH.  IOI 

knows  if  my  father  ever  expressed  any  desire  of  that 
kind.  Let  him  decide  between  us." 

"Look  ye,  Cordelia!"  Matthew  exclaimed,  with 
the  flame  of  anger  in  his  sunken  eyes,  "do  you 
mean  to  throw  me  over  now?  After  all  these  years 
of  patient  waiting,  do  you  fancy  that  I  am  to  be 
cast  aside,  like  a  worn-out  boot?  By  the  Host! 
you'll  find  it  a  sorry  work  to  do." 

"Lord  Oakleigh !"  said  the  proud  girl  starting  to 
her  feet,  her  face  flushed  and  her  eyes  burning  with 
deep  indignant  fire,  "you  have  no  authority — no 
right — for  speaking  to  me  in  that  manner.  Let  me 
tell  you,  once  for  all,  I  never  had,  I  have  not  now, 
nor  can  I  ever  have  a  thought  of  becoming  your 
wife.  Let  me  hope  that  you  will  never  broach  the 
subject  again." 

"My  dear  lady,"  returned  the  suitor,  attempting  a 
sneer,  his  hot  wrath  simmering  bsneath,  "you  talk 
foolishly.  Do  you  fancy  I  shall  give  up  the  cher- 
ished hope  and  plan  of  a  lifetime  to  suit  a  whim  of 
yours?  I  tell  you,  before  your  father  left  India  he 
conversed  with  my  father  on  this  subject,  and  it 
was  arranged  between  them  that  you  and  I  should 
be  married.  Why  do  you  suppose  I  have  held  my 
tongue  so  long?  I'll  tell  you.  Simply  because  I 
regarded  the  whole  thing  as  settled." 

"Have  you  said  all  you  had  to  say,  my  lord?"  the 
girl  asked  as  calmly  as  possible. 

"That  depends  upon  how  you  take  what  I  have 
said.  What  I  had  to  say  was  this :  Our  marriage 
will  take  place  before  the  present  year  is  at  an  end." 


102  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

"Is  that  all,  sir?" 

"I  would  like  to  have  you  tell  me  what  you  think 
of  it?" 

"I  have  said  all  that  I  have  to  say  on  that  subject, 
Lord  Oakleigh.  If  you  did  not  understand  me,  I 
beg  that  you  will  understand  me  now.  I  shall  never 
be  your  wife." 

"But  I  say,  you  will." 

"I  can  not  prevent  you  from  saying  what  you 
please ;  but,  surely,  over  my  own  fate  I  should  be 
allowed  to  hold  an  opinion.  Breakfast  will  be 
waiting." 

"Stop!  By  — !"  starting  up  with  a  fierce  oath 
and  grasping  her  by  the  arm.  "You  do  not  leave 
me  in  that  fashion.  Before  you  go  you  must  hear  a 
word  I  have  to  say.  If  you  will  marry  me  quietly 
of  your  own  free  will — Hush! — keep  still  till  I  have 
said  my  say!" 

She  had  attempted  to  break  away  and  leave  him, 
when  he  had  thrust  her  back  upon  the  seat  from 
which  she  had  arisen. 

"There !"  he  went  on,  hissing  out  his  words  madly. 
"Sit  you  there  and  listen :  If  you  will  marry  me 
quietly,  as  it  is  your  duty  to  do,  all  may  be  well.  I 
will  do  by  you,  for  your  good  and  comfort,  all  that 
any  man  could  do.  I  will  be  a  true  husband  to  you, 
kind  and  loving.  But  if  you  refuse  me,  if  you  per- 
sist in  your  stubborn  will  not  to  be  my  wife,  if  you 
hold  out  against  me  and  persuade  my  grandfather 
to  join  you,  if  you  do  this  I  will  make  your  life  a 
living  torture !  I  will  strike  you  down  so  that  you 


LORD  OAKLEIGH.  303 

shall  cry  to  me  for  mercy!  Aye,  the  time  shall 
come  when  you  will  beg  of  me  to  take  pity  on  you 
and  make  you  my  wife !  How  do  you  like  the 
picture?" 

"Lord  Oakleigh!  Let  me  go!  I  have  no  more 
to  say." 

"I  ask  you,  how  do  you  like  the  picture  I  have 
drawn?" 

"And  I  ask  you  to  let  me  go." 

"Won't  you  answer  me?" 

"You  need  no  answer.  You  do  not  wish  for  an 
answer.  If  you  can  find  delight  in  torturing  me  I 
suppose  I  must  submit  until  I  can  break  from  you." 

"Why  don't  you  call  me,  Monster! — as  I  see  it 
plainly  in  your  mind  to  call  me?" 

"Simply,  sir,  because  I  prefer  that  you  should 
characterize  yourself." 

"Cordelia!.  By  — !  I  would  give  a  thousand 
pounds  if  you  could  be  a  man  for  just  one  poor 
minute !  It  is  a  wonder  that  I  do  not  strike  you 
where  you  sit." 

"And  yet  you  ask  me  to  become  your  wife !  I 
can  scarcely  understand  you." 

"My  dear  lady,  you  will  understand  me  better 
before  you  are  four  months  older;  for  I  swear,  by 
the  heaven  above  me !  that  you  shall  be  my  wife ! 
Do  you  hear  that?  Hold!  Just  a  moment  more." 
And  he  looked  down  upon  her  with  an  expression 
on  his  dark,  passion-wrought  face  that  startled  her 
anew. 

"Do  you  think  I  do  not  know  which  way  your 


104  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

fancy  is  tending?"  he  demanded,  his  terrible  wrath 
causing  the  last  drop  of  blood  to  leave  his  face. 
"As  I  live,  I  believe  you  would  marry  that  smuggler's 
brat  to-morrow,  if  your  guardian  would  suffer  it ! 
Oh  it  makes  you  wince,  does  it?  I  think  I  will  see 
the  gentleman." 

"Monster!  let  me  go!"  And  thus  exclaiming  she 
sprang  from  him,  and  leaped  away.  He  jumped  to 
catch  her;  but,  at  that  moment,  two  men-servants 
approached  the  place,  and  he  gave  it  up,  and  drew 
back  into  the  arbor. 

"By  — !"  He  mttered  to  himself  a  horrible  oath, 
and  went  on :  "I  believe  she  really  does  love  the 
fellow!  What  in  the  world  can  the  old  man  have 
been  thinking  of  to  allow  it?  By  heavens!  if  he 
don't  put  a  stop  to  it,  I  will.  I'll  have  the  girl  for 
my  own,  if  I  have  to  force  her  to  it !  Mercy  on  us ! 
she's  been  allowed  to  associate  with  young  Maitland 
as  though  he'd  been  an  own  brother  to  her!  No! 
we'll  put  a  stop  to  that.  If  it  can  not  be  done  in 
one  way,  it  can  in  another !" 

With  this  he  smoothed  his  wrinkled  front  as  well 
as  he  could,  and  left  the  arbor.  He  was  not  in  the 
mood  for  sitting  at  the  breakfast-table  with  his 
grandfather  and  Cordelia;  so  he  took  a  turn  away 
toward  the  river,  prolonging  his  walk  for  an  hour. 

On  his  return  to  the  castle  he  found  that  the  meal 
had  been  kept  for  him.  The  others,  he  was  in- 
formed, had  eaten.  He  was  further  informed  that 
the  earl  desired  much  to  see  him. 

But  he  did  not  have  to  search.     His  grandfather 


LORD  OAKLEIGH.  105 

came  into  the  breakfast-room  while  he  was  eating^ 
and  took  a  seat  near  him. 

"I  want  to  ask  you,  my  dear  boy,"  the  old  man 
said,  in  his  pleasant,  cheery  way,  "when  you  thought 
of  returning  to  Oxford." 

"Why,  I  thought  you  knew,"  the  grandson  replied 
with  seeming  frankness,  "that  I  had  planned  to  go 
to-day.  However,  I  may  put  it  off  till  to-morrow. 
Had  you  anything  of  business  to  propose?" 

"Well,  my  boy,"  the  earl  answered,  with  an  ear- 
nest,  yearning  look  into  the  dark  face  before  him, 
"you  do  not  forget  that  you  have  passed  the  age  of 
proper  youth — that  you  are  now  a  free  and  indepen- 
dent man.  Let's  see — you  were  twenty-one — " 

"On  the  first  of  June  last,"  Matthew  put  in,  while 
his  grandfather  hesitated. 

"Exactly.  And  I  had  supposed  that  your  term 
at  college  would  have  been  at  an  end." 

"So  it  would  have  been  had  I  not  taken  an  extra 
pull  at  some  of  my  studies.  But  it  will  be  over 
shortly.  I  shall  come  home  and  take  a  short  rest, 
and  then,  I  think,  I'll  take  a  run  for  a  year  or  two 
on  the  continent." 

"All  right,  Oakleigh.  I  am  happy  to  know  that 
you  have  a  settled  plan." 

"Hark  ye,  my  lord,"  said  the  young  man,  after  a 
brief  pause,  looking  up  with  a  wine-glass  in  his  hand, 
"I  have  to  say  to  you,  that  one  of  my  settled  plans 
has  been  considerably  upset  this  morning." 

"Ah,  how  is  that?" 

"Let  me  answer  by  asking  a  question :  Was  there 


106  THE   SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

ever,  between  my  father  and  Sir  William  Chester,  a 
settled  plan  that  Cordelia  and  I  should  marry?" 

The  old  man  started,  and  an  expression  of  pain 
settled  upon  his  countenance. 

"You  know,  don't  you?"  Matthew  added,  as  his 
grandfather  did  not  speak.  "Was  it  not  a  settled 
plan  between  the  two  fathers,  before  Sir  William  and 
his  child  left  India,  that  Cordelia  and  I  should 
become  man  and  wife?" 

"My  dear  boy,"  the  earl  replied,  speaking  slowly 
and  earnestly  and  with  evident  pain,  "I  know  all 
about  it ;  I  know  all  that  was  said,  and  all  that  was 
done.  Have  you  ever  believed  that  such  an  arrange- 
ment was  made?" 

"I  certainly  have." 

"What  reason  had  you  for  the  belief?  Surely  I 
never  told  you  so." 

"Perhaps  you  never  did;  but  you  have  gone -on, 
allowing  me  to — " 

"Hush!  Hush,  my  boy.  You  surely  can  have 
no  cause  of  complaint  against  me.  Never  before 
have  you  spoken  to  me  on  the  subject." 

"At  all  events,"  insisted  the  youth,  "you  should 
have  known  that  I  was  likely  to  fall  in  love  with  the 
beautiful  girl  and  to  want  her  for  my  wife." 

"Well,  and  what  then?  If  you  honestly  love  her, 
and  will  solemnly  swear  to  be  to  her  a  true  and  lov- 
ing husband,  you  shall  have  my  consent,  with 
God's  blessing." 

"Aye,  but  suppose  the  girl  should  refuse  me?" 

"Then,  of  course,  that  would  be  the  end." 


LORD  OAKLEIGH.  107 

"And  you  would  put  up  with  it,  would  you?" 

"What  do  you  mean,  Matthew,  by  that?" 

"You  would  allow  the  girl  to  have  her  own  way? 
You  would  not  make  an  effort  to  influence  her?" 

"To  influence  her  to  what?" 

"To  accept  your  grandson  for  a  husband." 

The  old  man  started  and  a  perceptible  shudder 
shook  his  strong  frame.  He  looked  again  into  the 
dark  face  before  him,  and  thought  of  the  precious 
darling  who  looked  to  him  for  care  and  protection. 

"Did  you  understand  me?"  Lord  Oakleigh  asked, 
with  a  show  of  temper,  as  his  grandfather  continued 
to  gaze  upon  him  in  silence. 

"Yes,  Matthew,  I  understood  you  but  too  well.  I 
am  surprised  that  you  should  put  such  a  question 
to  me." 

"In  Heaven's  name!  why  surprised?  Is  it  sur- 
prising that  I  should  wish  to  make  Cordelia  Chester 
my  wife?" 

"Not  at  all ;  but  I  am  surprised  that  you  should 
for  one  moment  suppose  that  I  would  urge  her  to 
marry  against  her  will.  In  fact,  my  boy,  I  gave  to 
her  father,  when  he  lay  dying,  a  solemn  promise  that 
I  would  never  do  any  such  thing.  She  should  not 
be  asked  to  marry  without  love." 

"Oho-ho-oo!"  The  angry  man  laughed  coarsely 
and  contemptuously.  "If  you  stick  to  that  you'll 
be  likely  to  send  your  fair  ward  to  a  grand  market ! 
Do  you  know  whom  she  will  marry  if  she  weds  with 
the  man  of  her  heart's  desire?" 

"Boy!     What  do  you  mean?" 


Io8  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE.    ' 

"Upon  my  word !  I  believe  you  know  very  well 
what  I  mean.  Don't  you  know  which  way  the  girl 
is  drifting?  If  you  do  not,  it  is  time  you  opened 
your  eyes!" 

"Matthew,"  said  the  earl,  drawing  himself  up 
proudly,  and  looking  his  grandson  straight  in  the 
face,  "I  will  not  profess  to  misunderstand  you. 
You  are  speaking,  or  thinking,  of  Percy  Maitland.  I 
am  only  sorry  that  he  is  not  of  gentle  blood ;  for  I 
tell  you  frankly,  were  he  so,  I  should  not  hesitate  an 
instant  to  bestow  upon  him  Cordelia's  hand,  pro- 
vided they  both  wished  it." 

"Which  means,  I  suppose,  that  you  would  not 
give  that  hand  to  me?" 

"If  you  will  have  it,  boy,  I  answer  you  just  as 
frankly,  yes." 

"By  — !  I  begin  to  understand  you  !"  the  young 
lord  exclaimed,  prefacing  the  words  with  an  impreca- 
tion the  like  of  which  had  not  been  uttered  in  the 
earl's  presence  for  years.  "And  let  me  tell  you, 
old  man — " 

"Hush!     Oh,  boy!  boy!  have  you  no  heart?" 

-  — !"  Another  oath,  and  then,  "You  treat 
me  as  though  I  had  none.  I  approach  my  gentle 
Lady  Cordelia;  and  she  receives  me  as  though  I 
were  infected.  I  ask  her  if  she  will  be  my  wife,  and 
she  almost  spits  on  me." 

"Ah!     Then  you  have  spoken  with  her?" 

"Yes;  this  very  morning.  It  washer  treatment 
of  me  that  took  away  my  appetite  for  an  earlier 
breakfast.  If  I  had  been  a  pariah,  she  could  not 


LORD  OAKLEIGH.  109 

have  treated  me  more  contemptuously.  A  fine 
home-coming,  truly!" 

"Matthew,"  said  the  old  man,  rising  as  he  spoke, 
and  gazing  upon  his  grandson  with  mingled  feelings 
of  sadness  and  indignation,  "I  have  but  a  few 
words  to  say,  and  those  I  speak  to  you  from  my 
heart  though  you  may  try  to  think  otherwise.  For 
the  refusal  of  Cordelia,  and  for  any  harsh  words  she 
may  have  spoken,  you  have  yourself  to  thank.  If 
you  spoke  to  her  as  you  have  spoken  to  me  I  wonder 
not  that  she  took  quick  offense." 

"And  how,  if  I  may  ask,  have  I  spoken  to  your 
lordship?" 

"The  tone  in  which  you  now  speak  is  enough  for 
answer.  Add  to  that  the  gross  profanity  which  fell 
from  your  lips  but  a  few  moments  since,  and  the 
measure  of  my  endurance  is  reached.  Oh,  boy !  boy ! 
why  will  you  do  so?  You  do  not  know  how  I  could 
have  loved  you,  had  you  but  allowed  me  to  do  it. 
For  the  love  of  Heaven !  will  you  not  try  to  do  differ- 
ently? Who  shall  say  what  might  have  been  had 
you  been  pure  and  good?" 

"Which  is  equivalent  to  saying,  if  I  understand  the 
king's  English,  that  I  am  not  pure  and  good?" 

"Neither  pure,  nor  good,  nor  truthful,  Matthew! 
Alas !  that  I  should  live  to  say  it,  and  that  you  should 
live  to  deserve  it." 

"Thanks !  Many,  many  thanks,  dear  grandpapa ! 
You'll  excuse  me  if  I  go  out  and  get  a  bit  of  fresh 
air  after  this."  And,  thus  speaking  the  wretch 
turned  away,  with  a  sneer  on  his  lips  and  a  look  of 


no  THE  SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

defiance  in  his  eyes,  and  left  the  room.  And  the 
aged  grandsire,  when  the  distant  door  had  been 
closed  and  he  was  left  alone,  sank  into  a  seat,  and 
burst  into  tears. 

And  so,  a  little  later,  Cordelia  found  him. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A    COMPROMISE. 

"DEAR,  dear  grandpa !  Has  he  been  making  you 
unhappy,  too?  What  has  he  done?  What  has  he 
been  saying  to  you?  Tell  me  all  about  it." 

The  earl  felt  two  warm,  loving  arms  around  his 
neck,  and  a  dear,  treasured  head  pillowed  on  his 
bosom.  By  and  by  he  looked  up,  and  met  the  ear- 
nest, beseeching  gaze  of  his  beautiful  ward — his 
grandchild  of  his  heart — the  one  true,  enduring  love 
left  to  him  in  all  the  world. 

"Oh,  Cordelia,  my  sweet  child !  God  and  all  the 
good  angels  keep  and  bless  thee !" 

And  then,  with  many  pauses,  and  many  tears,  he 
told  the  story  of  his  interview  with  his  grandson — all 
save  that  part  of  it  which  had  reference  to  the 
smuggler's  son.  Of  that  he  spoke  not  yet. 

When  this  had  been  told,  Cordelia  gave  a  truthful 
account  of  the  interview  in  the  arbor;  but  she  did 
not  dwell  upon  it.  She  hurried  through  with  it  as 
rapidly  as  possible,  and  then  broached  a  new  subject. 

"Grandpa,"  she  said,  with  a  world  of  eager  inquiry 


A    COMPROMISE.  Ill 

in  look  and  tone,  "you  have  heard  stories  told  of  the 
old  chapel  of  the  Monks,  on  the  crag — about  its 
being  haunted,  and  so  on,  haven't  you?" 

"Yes,  darling.    Those  stories  are  older  than  I  am." 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  about  it?  What  did 
you  ever  think?  Of  course,  you  have  had  your 
thoughts." 

"Really,  my  dear  child,  you  puzzle  me.  I  hardly 
know  how  to  answer.  I  must  have  had  a  great 
many  thoughts  during  all  the  years  since,  in  my 
boyhood,  I  heard  the  first  stories  of  the  ghosts  of  the 
old  chapel.  And  there  was  one  thing  curious.  For 
many  years — for  almost  two-score,  I  should  say, 
those  stories  died  out. 

"Of  late,  however,  within  ten  or  a  dozen  years, 
they  have  revived.  I  remember,  it  was  during  the 
very  week  of  your  father's  death,  a  number  of  our 
servants  were  frightened  by  a  ghost — the  ghost, 
they  said,  of  a  gray  friar — wandering  about  the 
old  ruin.  But — but — it  was,  of  course,  the  veriest 
nonsense." 

Cordelia  looked  up  into  the  old  man's  face  search- 
ingly.  She  looked  so  sharply,  and  with  so  much  of 
meaning  in  the  look,  that  he  shrank  away  from  it, 
and  his  eyes,  usually  so  honest  and  true,  wavered. 

"Grandpa!  grandpa!  There  is  something  you  do 
not  tell  me.  What  is  it?  Come,  you  surely  can 
have  nothing  that  you  would  wish  to  hide  from  your 
darling." 

"Child!  child!  why  are  you  so  eager?  Ah!  tell 
me,  were  you  in  the  chapel  through  the  storm? 


H2  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

Why  of  course  you  were.  You  told  me  so.  Did 
you  see  anything." 

"Grandpa,  I  want  you  to  answer  me  first.  You 
ought  to.  You  are  the  oldest,  and  should  take  the 
J^ad.  Tell  me,  what  was  it  you  kept  back  from 
me?" 

Once  more,  after  a  little  further  hesitation,  the 
frank,  steady,  and  straightforward  look  came  back  to 
the  old  earl's  eyes ;  and  he  said,  first  casting  a  swift 
glance  around : 

"Cordelia,  the  story  I  am  going  to  tell  you  I  have 
never  told  to  anybody.  It  has  puzzled  me;  and  I 
have  tried  to  solve  the  mystery  involved ;  but  I  have 
kept  it  to  myself. 

"You  will  remember,  shortly  before  your  father's 
death,  his  old  attorney,  John  Chudley,  came  up  to 
make  the  papers  necessary  to  prove  my  appointment 
as  your  guardian,  and  to  make  the  will,  and  so  on. 
You  will  remember  also  that  his  son  Charles  came 
with  him.  Charles  was  at  that  time  somewhere  near 
twenty  years  old  ;  and  he  was  observant  and  reliable, 
as  was  his  father. 

"Well,  one  day,  while  they  were  here,  after  the 
legal  business  had  all  been  done,  those  two,  the 
Chudleys,  went  off  up  the  river  after  fish,  a  sport 
of  which  they  were  fond,  and  of  which  they  got  little 
at  home.  They  fished  through  the  greater  part  of 
the  day,  and  on  their  way  home  they  took  a  fancy 
to  climb  Witch's  Crag.  Suffice  it  to  say — they 
went  up — " 

"Oh ! — and  got  lost !"  broke  in  the  eager  listener. 


A    COMPROMISE.  113 

"I  remember  the  night,  and  how  frightened  every- 
body was.  Just  such  another  night  as  it  was  last 
night.  Am  I  not  right?" 

"Entirely  so,  darling.  They  went  up  the  crag, 
and  on  their  way  down  they  lost  the  path.  The 
storm  and  darkness  came  and  found  them  in  sight  of 
the  chapel,  and  there  they  sought  shelter.  They 
had  found  some  stone  seats  away  in  one  corner, 
where  they  sat  down  and  waited  for  the  storm  to 
pass,  or  at  least  for  the  rain  to  hold  up  a  bit. 

"And  now  comes  the  wonderful  part.  While  they 
thus  sat  they  were  startled  by  the  sound  of  some- 
body walking  outside,  and  presently  afterward  they 
were  sure  somebody  had  entered  the  chapel.  As 
luck  would  have  it,  a  few  seconds  later  there  came  a 
stream  of  lightning  that  made  the  place  as  light  as 
day,  and  they  plainly  saw  a  human  figure,  tall  and 
large,  enveloped  in  the  robe  and  cowl  of  a  gray  friar ! 
Strangely  enough,  not  more  than  three  seconds 
had  passed  when  another  flash  came,  and  this  time 
they  saw  the  friar  close  by  the  altar.  The  third 
flash  came  in  a  few  seconds  more,  and  the  friar  had 
vanished. 

"The  mystery  was,  what  could  have  become  of  the 
strange  intruder?  They,  father  and  son,  could  both 
swear  that  he  had  not  gone  out  by  the  door.  He 
could  not  have  done  it  and  they  not  know  it.  The 
windows  were  beyond  the  reach  of  any  man  unless 
he  had  a  ladder  or  a  tall  stepping-place  of  some 
kind  to  help  him.  And  yet  he  had  gone — vanished, 
as  into  thin  air. 


114  THE  SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

"On  the  next  day  they  went  to  the  chapel ;  and  I 
went  with  them ;  and  they  there  told  the  story  over, 
at  the  same  time  pointing  out  the  different  locali- 
ties— the  course  which  the  figure  took — and  the 
point  at  the  altar  where  he  stood  before  he  disap- 
appeared. 

"That  is  the  story,  Cordelia.  And  I  am  free 
to  confess  it  has  puzzled  me.  That  a  person  in 
the  guise  of  a  Franciscan  monk,  or  gray  friar,  en- 
tered the  chapel  on  that  evening  I  am  confident. 
Also,  I  can  not  doubt  that  he  made  his  way  out 
without  going  by  the  vestibule  or  through  a 
window." 

"And  now,  my  dear  grandpa,  what  do  you  think 
of  it?  How  do  you  think  it  was  done?" 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  dear  child,  I  have  thought 
there  must  be,  somewhere  near  that  altar,  a  secret 
trap — an  entrance,  in  some  way,  to  hidden  vaults  or 
crypts  below." 

"But  you  never  found  anything?" 

"No.  I  have  searched  at  every  possible  point.  I 
have  closely  examined  every  seam  and  every  crevice, 
but  nothing  have  I  been  able  to  find — not  a  trace, 
not  a  sign." 

"Now,  grandpa,  if  I  will  tell  you  something,  you 
will  keep  it  to  yourself,  won't  you — at  least  till  I 
,  tell  you  otherwise?" 

"Certainly,  darling,  if  there  is  good  reason  for 
it." 

"Well,  there  is  the  very  best  of  reasons.  We 
agreed— Percy  and  I— that  we  wouldn't  speak  of  it 


A    COMPROMISE.  11$ 

until  he  had  time  to  investigate ;  but,  since  you 
know  so  much,  you  ought  to  know  this,  too." 

And  thereupon  she  went  on,  excitedly  and  viv- 
idly, yet  very  clearly  and  succinctly,  to  tell  the  story 
of  the  adventure  of  the  previous  evening. 

"Oh !"  she  cried,  when  she  had  concluded  the  nar- 
rative, "I  am  glad  it  was  Percy.  If  there  is  any- 
thing to  be  found,  be  sure  he  will  find  it." 

"Cordelia!" 

The  girl  started.  There  was  something  in  the 
tone — in  the  manner  in  which  her  name  had  been 
thus  abruptly  pronounced,  that  sounded  strangely 
to  her.  It  seemed  to  her  as  though  she  could  detect 
pain  in  it. 

"Cordelia !  You  think  a  great  deal  of  Percy  Mait- 
land?" 

What  in  the  world  did  he  mean?  Had  he  read 
her  secret?  Did  he  know  or  did  he  suspect,  that 
she  loved  him,  loved  him  with  all  the  love  of  her 
heart?  Ah!  Matthew  had  spoken.  His  word  had 
given  the  earl's  thoughts  direction.  She  had  hoped 
that  the  secret  might  be  Percy's  and  hers  for  a  time 
longer;  and  it  would  be  an  easy  matter  to  deceive 
her  questioner,  even  now. 

But,  could  she  do  it?  Could  she,  in  this  hour, 
when  a  holy  love  had  sanctified  and  beautified  her 
life,  take  her  first  step  in  falsehood?  Oh,  no !  no! 

"My  dear  child! — darling!"  reaching  out  and 
taking  her  hand,  when  a  full  minute  had  elapsed  and 
she  had  not  spoken.  "You  are  not  afraid  of  your 
dear  old  grandpa.  Will  you  not  trust  him  fully?" 


Ii6  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'^S  COVE. 

"Yes,  yes !"  the  noble  girl  answered.  She  started 
to  her  feet,  and  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck  and 
kissed  him;  then  having  resumed  her  seat,  she 
looked  frankly,  trustfully  up,  and  added :  "Ask  me 
what  you  please,  dear  grandpa,  and  I  will  answer  if 
I  can." 

"Cordelia !  your  generous  tone,  your  entire  readi- 
ness to  answer,  tells  me  that  I,  too,  should  be  gener- 
ous and  confess  to  you  my  source  of  information.  It 
was  Matthew  who  put  the  thought  into  my  mind, 
and  he  did  it  most  unkindly." 

"I  knew  it,  dear  grandpa.  He  taunted  me,  or  he 
meant  to  do  so,  and  he  made  terrible  threats,  but 
they  do  not  frighten  me.  They  did  at  first,  but  they 
do  not  now.  Dear,  dear  old  grandpa,"  she  cried 
impulsively,  after  a  short  silence,  at  the  same  time 
grasping  his  arm  with  both  her  hands,  "would  you, 
could  you  ask  me  to  marry  with  Lord  Oakleigh?" 

"Oh,  my  soul,  no!" 

"Did  my  father  ever  express  a  wish  that  I  should 
marry  with  him?" 

"No;  he  never  did." 

"Do  you  believe  he  would  have  allowed  such  a 
thing  had  he  been  living?" 

"I  know  very  well  he  would  not  have  allowed  it. 
So,  my  child,  do  you  borrow  no  trouble  because  of 
your  refusal  of  his  suit." 

"Grandpa,  do  you  believe  he  loves  me?" 

"Alas !  I  can  not  believe  that  a  true  love  of  the 

heart — a  pure,  unselfish    love— is    possible    to    his 

•  nature !     But  let  him  pass.     Tell  me  of  this  other— 


A    COMPROMISE.  Ill 

of  Percy  Maitland.  What  is  he  to  you?  You  know 
what  I  mean." 

She  had  thought  to  answer  promptly,  but  when 
the  moment  came  her  heart  was  bounding  too 
strongly  for  coherent  speech.  She  bent  her  head 
and  pressed  her  hands  over  her  bosom,  and  by 
and  by  she  had  gained  control  of  her  emotions ;  or, 
at  least,  of  those  that  had  overcome  her.  She 
looked  up,  with  a  warm,  radiant  light  in  her  truthful 
eyes,  and  a  rich,  rosy  glow  on  her  earnest,  lovely 
face. 

"Dear  grandpa,  don't  be  frightened;  don't  have 
any  fear;  and  I  pray  you,  don't  blame  me  until  you 
have  taken  a  good  long  time  for  thought  and  observ- 
ation; for  I  tell  you,  in  the  outset,  while  you  live 
and  need  me,  I  will  not  leave." 

"Bless  you,  darling,  for  that !" 

"And  now,  I  must  confess  to  you,  I  love  Percy 
Maitland  with  all  my  heart,  and  all  my  strength.  I 
love  him  as  I  never  loved  another — as  I  never  can 
love  another — with  a  love  that  would  be  my  death  if 
he  were  taken  from  me.  We  never  knew  till  yes- 
terday." 

And  then,  in  her  frank  bubbling  manner,  with  the 
ice  thus  broken,  she  went  on  and  told  the  story  of 
the  love-passage  on  the  crag ;  and  of  how  their  love 
had  been  sealed  in  the  old  chapel. 

The  old  man  was  deeply  interested.  He  felt  his 
own  youth  come  back,  with  the  one  great  love  of  his 
lifetime ;  and  he  lived  over  again  the  ecstasy  of  the 
long  ago. 


Il8  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

And  another  thing — the  character  and  the  behav- 
ior of  the  low-born  youth  stood  out  in  flattering  col- 
ors. The  earl  could  not  put  away  his  admiration 
for  him ;  he  could  not  help  respecting  and  esteem- 
ing him. 

And  again  he  found  himself  wishing,  "Oh!  that 
Matthew  had  been  like  him !"  Yet  there  was  an- 
other and  sterner  side  to  the  subject.  Could  he 
allow  the  lady  daughter  of  one  of  England's  proud- 
est, wealthiest  knights  to  marry  with  the  son  of  a 
smuggler? 

But  even  here  the  old  earl,  his  tender,  loving 
heart,  could  find  argument  on  both  sides.  He  called 
to  mind  the  dying  words  of  Sir  William.  His  gen- 
tle daughter  should  never  be  urged  to  wed  without 
love,  and  he — the  earl — had  solemnly  promised  that 
he  would  never  even  ask  her  to  do  such  a  thing. 

He  remembered  with  a  start  how  earnestly  and 
feelingly  the  dying  father  of  his  fair  ward  had 
spoken  of  the  misery  that  came  from  loveless 
marriage. 

And  here  was  the  girl  with  a  love  in  her  heart 
that  had  become  so  much  a  part  of  her  life  that 
the  loss  of  it  would  kill  her. 

Were  the  man  the  son  of  a  landed  proprietor — of 
an  humble  esquire — or  even  of  a  wealthy  farmer,  of 
good  family,  he  might  have  hesitated;  but — the  son 
of  an  obscure  seaman — aye,  in  truth,  the  son  of  an 
outlaw !  Oh !  it  was  too  much ! 

"Cordelia?  My  blessed  child,  do  you  not  see — do 
you  not  understand — this  must  not  be.  Think  of 


A    COMPROMISE.  119 

it.  You  know  how  I  love  you.  I  do  not  exagger- 
ate when  I  say,  I  would  willingly  die  for  you.  Then, 
oh,  then,  you  will  believe  I  have  only  your  best 
good  at  heart.  Think  who  and  what  this  man 
is.  Think  of  his  family — his  parentage.  Do  you 
not  see?" 

"Grandpa,  I  can  not  quite  understand  it.  Here 
am  I  with  a  heart  capable  of  loving.  In  my  brief 
span  of  life  I  have  become  acquainted  with  two 
men,  and  have  been  thrown  more  or  less  into  their 
companionship.  In  fact  my  relations  with  these 
two  have  been  such  that  their  friendship  could  not 
have  been  otherwise  than  valuable  and  very  pleasant 
to  me,  provided  I  had  found  them  worth  confidence 
and  esteem.  One  of  those  men  was  born  the  child 
of  a  smuggler.  He  could  not  help  it,  could  he? 
The  question  with  me  is,  what  sort  of  a  man  has 
the  smuggler's  son  grown  to  be? 

"The  other  man,  dear  grandpa,  was  born  the 
son  of — " 

"Stop !  stop !  Oh,  I  know  what  you  would  say. 
Aye,  and  what  sort  of  a  man  has  he  grown  to  be? 
Oh,  Heaven  have  mercy !" 

"Dear  grandpa!"  rising  to  her  feet  and  once 
more  winding  her  arms  around  his  neck,  "let  us  say 
no  more  about  the  matter  at  this  time.  You  will 
not  forbid  me  to  associate  with  Percy  as  I  have 
heretofore  done.  Think  what  he  has  been  to  me — 
my  teacher  and  guide  through  all  these  years !  And 
what  a  teacher!  Could  there  have  been  a  nobler, 
truer,  or  purer  guide?  You  need  not  fear  that  I 


120  THE   SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

shall  marry  him  without  your  knowledge,  and,  I  am 
almost  ready  to  say,  without  your  consent.  But  let 
it  be  for  now.  You  may  talk  with  my  lover  if  you 
like;  but  mind,  you  shall  not  blame  him.  Mine  is 
the  blame  if  you  have  any  to  lay  upon  us. 

"There !"  giving  him  another  kiss,  "now  go  and 
be  as  happy  as  you  can.  Be  sure  your  darling  will 
do  nothing  to  give  you  pain  if  she  can  help  it.  Shall 
it  not  be  so?" 

Poor,  fond,  foolish  old  man !  He  could  not  find 
it  in  his  heart  to  say  her  nay.  And,  if  the  truth 
were  told,  he  felt  greatly  relieved  that  the  matter 
had  been  thus  pleasantly  disposed  of. 

He  told  himself  things  would  simply  be  as  they 
had  been.  If  he  would  win  his  ward  from  the 
unfortunate  love,  he  would  not  do  it  by  beginning 
now  to  make  her  miserable  and  unhappy.  He 
would  wait.  Who  should  say  what  of  good  the 
future  might  bring?  He  kissed  her  and  blessed  her, 
and  the  conference  ended. 

While  this  scene  had  been  transpiring  in  the 
breakfast-room  of  the  castle,  another,  of  a  somewhat 
different  character,  had  been  taking  place  in  the  wood 
by  the  river,  not  a  great  way  off. 

Lord  Oakleigh  had  left  his  grandfather  feeling 
about  as  angry — as  thoroughly  mad  with  rage  and 
passion — as  a  naturally  perverse  and  passionate  man 
could  be. 

He  went  first  to  the  butler's  room  and  got  a  bot- 
tle of  brandy,  which  he  took  with  him  to  his  own 
apartment,  where  he  drank  freely. 


A    COMPROMISE.  1 21 

Then  he  buckled  on  his  sword  and  took  his  j^at 
and  went  out.  He  had  no  particular  aim  in  view, 
though  his  thoughts,  which  he  muttered  aloud  as  he 
gained  the  open  park,  were  of  the  smuggler's  son. 
He  could  not  believe  that  his  grandfather  would 
allow  Cordelia  to  marry  with  the  outlaw's  offspring; 
but  there  was  no  telling  what  the  girl  herself  might 
do.  So  far  as  true  love — or  real  love  of  any  kind — was 
concerned,  he  felt  not  a  particle  of  it  in  his  heart  for 
his  grandfather's  fair  ward.  But  he  haa  never  seen  a 
girl  he  had  liked  better;  and,  surely,  he  had  never 
seen  one  more  beautiful. 

In  truth,  he  did  not  believe  there  was  a  more 
beautiful  woman  in  the  kingdom.  At  some  time  he 
would  be  earl  of  Allerdale;  and  he  would  want  a 
mistress  to  preside  over  his  household;  and  Cor- 
delia Chester  was  the  one  woman  of  all  the  world 
upon  whom  his  choice  had  been  fixed. 

So  it  would  not  answer  to  suffer  this  young  smug- 
gler to  bewitch  her.  He  was  forced  to  acknowledge 
to  himself  that  young  Maitland  was  about  the 
handsomest  young  fellow  he  had  ever  met — just  the 
man,  he  told  himself,  for  an  impressionable  young 
girl  like  Cordelia  to  go  crazy  about.  "Upon  my 
soul,"  he  muttered  on,  "I  believe  she  would  run 
away  with  him  in  a  moment,  if  she  were  crossed. 
And  just  so  long  as  the  fellow  is  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, just  so  long  will  the  old  earl  allow  her  to  asso- 
ciate with  him.  Poor  old  fool !  He  don't  know 
what  he  is  doing.  But  I  think  I've  put  a  flea  in  his 
ear.  Yet,  for  all  that,  the  girl  can  befool  him.  She 


122  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

can  coax  and  wheedle  him  into  anything,  I  don't 
care  how  monstrous  it  is. 

"By — !  There's  one  thing  I  can  do!  Aye,  and 
if  the  need  shall  come,  I  will  do  it.  Ha!  I  was 
talking  of  him  ;  and  here  he  is." 

Brandon  had  entered  the  wood  at  the  edge  of  the 
park,  and  was  now  in  the  path  that  ran  along  upon 
the  shore  of  the  river. 

He  had  been  muttering  to  himself,  as  we  have 
heard,  when,  on  raising  his  eyes,  he  beheld  not  far 
away  the  very  man  of  whom  he  had  been  thinking 
and  speaking,  coming  toward  him. 

When  Percy  lifted  his  eyes  on  hearing  an  ap- 
proaching footstep,  and  beheld  Lord  Oakleigh,  his 
first  thought  was  to  avoid  him ;  and  he  had  half 
turned,  for  the  purpose  of  striking  into  the  wood, 
when  it  occurred  to  him  that  the  act  would  not  only 
appear  cowardly,  but  the  young  lord  might  take  it  as 
an  affront. 

At  all  events  his  second  thought,  which  he  obeyed, 
led  him  straight  on,  and  pretty  soon  they  were  face 
to  face.  Maitland  had  swerved  to  the  right,  intend- 
ing to  pass ;  but  the  other  had  stepped  directly  in 
front  of  him,  thus  preventing  the  passage. 

Percy  looked  up  in  surprise — surprise  and  indig- 
nation. He  saw  that  his  lordship  had  been  drink- 
ing, and  there  was  mischief  in  his  black,  sunken 
eyes. 

But  the  well-disposed  youth  would  avoid  trouble 
if  the  thing  were  possible ;  and,  to  that  end,  he  turned 
to  the  left,  making  a  movement  to  pass  in  that 


A  BROKEN  HAND.  123 

direction.     And  again  the  young  lord  stepped  in 
front  of  him,  thus  interposing  a  second  time. 


CHAPTER  X. 

A   BROKEN  HAND — A  WONDERFUL    DISCOVERY. 

OUR  hero  looked  straight  into  the  face  of  the 
man  before  him,  and  he  saw  there  not  only  the  un- 
mistakable signs  of  drink,  but  he  saw,  too,  a  fierce, 
ungovernable  anger.  The  dark,  sinister  face  was  the 
face  of  a  madman. 

And  there  was  still  mischief  in  the  eyes.  They 
sent  forth  a  malevolent,  vengeful  gleam  not  to  be 
mistaken.  What  did  the  man  mean? 

What  could  have  possessed  him?  It  occurred  to 
Maitland  at  once  that  his  wrath  had  been  aroused 
before  this  present  meeting.  The  sight  of  himself 
might  have  set  it  boiling  over,  but  that  had  not 
been  the  sole  cause  of  it. 

Instinctively  Percy  thought  of  his  means  of  de- 
fense against  attack.  Oakleigh  was  armed  with  a 
good  sword,  and  was  angry  enough  to  draw  it  upon 
the  slightest  provocation.  Indeed,  it  was  more  than 
possible  that  his  intent  was  in  that  direction.  Fort- 
unately our  hero  was  armed.  He  had  in  his  hand 
a  leopard-wood  staff — a  common  walking-cane — a 
stick  that  Donald  Rodney  had  brought  from  one  of 
the  Pacific  islands  and  given  him  as  a  present.  It 
had  a  head  of  solid  silver,  and  was,  taken  all  in  all, 


124  THE   SMUGGLER   OF   KING'S  COVE. 

as  serviceable  a  weapon  as  he  could  have  wished 
for. 

"Lord  Oakleigh!  why  do  you  thus  impede  my 
progress?  If  you  have  anything  to  say,  I  am 
ready  to  hear  it." 

"Oho!  you've  found  your  tongue,  have  you? 
Well,  my  gay  young  spark,  I  have  something  to  say, 
and  you  may  find  it  of  importance.  I  have  to  in- 
form you  that  you  have  made  yourself  about  as 
familiar  at  the  castle  as  will  be  good  for  you. 
Henceforth  you  will  give  that  place  as  wide  a  berth 
as  possible.  To  come  to  the  point,  you  will  have 
nothing  more  to  say  to  the  Lady  Cordelia.  I  think 
you  can  understand  that,  and  I  can  assure  you,  you 
had  better  take  heed." 

"Is  that  all,  my  lord?" 

"Is — that — all!  Isn't  it  enough?  Do  you  intend 
to  obey  me?" 

"Lord  Oakleigh,  I  answer  you  frankly — I  do  not 
recognize  your  right  to  command  me." 

"You  don't,  eh?" 

"Certainly  not." 

"Then,  by  — !  I'll  give  you  a  taste  of  my  quality. 
I  give  you  fair  warning.  I  command  you  to  cease  all 
intercourse  with  Cordelia  Chester !  And  I  give  you 
fair  warning  that  if  you  do  not,  here  and  now,  give 
me  your  promise  to  that  effect,  I  will  punish  you ! 
Aye,  I  will  put  it  beyond  your  power  to  trouble 
her  more !  If  you  can  not  put  that  into  plain  Eng- 
lish I  shall  not  translate  it  for  you.  I'll  expound 
it  in  a  way  you'll  be  likely  to  remember  while 


A   BROKEN  HAND.  125 

you  live!  What  say  you?  Shall  I  have  your 
promise?" 

"Lord  Oakleigh,  you  have  no  right  to  speak — " 

"Silence!     Will  you  promise?" 

"Lord  Oakleigh,  have  you  come  hither  on  pur- 
pose to  assassinate  me?" 

"Will  you  give  me  the  promise?" 

"I  will  not!" 

"Then  (the  oaths  he  muttered  in  his  mad  rage  were 
horrible)  I'll  show  you  for  I  am  here!  Take  that!" 

The  first  movement  he  made  and  he  made  it  furi- 
ously, told  his  fell  purpose. 

He  had  drawn  his  sword,  a  heavy  infantry  sabre, 
of  the  pattern  worn  by  the  higher  officers  when  on 
active  service,  and  his  first  movement,  following 
immediately  upon  the  words  he  had  spoken,  was  a 
direct,  powerful  lunge  at  the  other's  bosom. 

But  our  hero  had  been  on  his  guard  and  was  pre- 
pared. Probably  there  was  not  a  better  swordsman 
in  Headlandshire  than  was  he. 

With  a  downward  and  outward  sweep  of  his 
heavy  staff  he  struck  the  blade  aside,  and  his  lord- 
ship's own  impetus,  with  the  expected  resistance 
thus  removed,  came  near  to  sending  him  prone  upon 
the  earth.  But  he  quickly  recovered  himself  and 
came  on  again. 

And  again  did  Percy  beat  his  blade  aside, — and 
again ;  and  by  and  by  he  gave  his  lordship  a  rap  on 
the  knuckles  that  made  him  groan  aloud  in  his 
pain. 

"Oakleigh!    if    you  do  not    desist,  I   will  break 


126  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  CpVE. 

your  arm ;  or  I  will  lame  it  for  you  so  that  you  will 
not  wield  a  sword  again  for  a  time  at  least.  Beware !" 

If  Matthew  Brandon  had  been  in  any  degree  sober, 
and  in  possession  of  his  reason,  he  would  have  seen 
that  he  had  no  show  against  the  antagonist  he  had 
chosen. 

The  staff  was  like  iron  in  weight,  and  impervious 
to  the  cutting  edge  of  the  sword ;  and  in  the  hand 
of  its  owner  it  was  really  a  dangerous  weapon. 
With  only  a  jaunty  velvet  cap  to  protect  Lord  Oak- 
leigh's  head,  his  antagonist  could,  had  he  willed  so 
to  do,  have  brought  his  stick  down  upon  it  with  force 
enough  to  crack  it;  and  more  than  once  had  the 
opportunity  been  offered. 

At  length,  when  Brandon  had  become  so  mad  and 
furious  as  to  lose  all  control  of  himself,  when  only  an 
insane  purpose  to  kill  urged  him  on  in  his  blind, 
headlong  attack,  Percy  determined  to  put  an  end  to 
the  scene. 

Twice,  without  particular  effort,  he  struck  aside 
the  blade,  and  then,  as  the  opening  was  given,  he 
brought  his  heavy  staff  down  upon  the  back  of  his 
lordship's  right  hand  with  a  force  that  closed  the 
strife. 

The  sword  dropped  to  the  earth,  and  Lord  Oak- 
leigh  fairly  shrieked  with  pain. 

"You've  broken  my  hand!  You've  broken  my 
wrist !" 

"Thank  me  that  I  did  not  break  your  head,  which 
I  might  have  done  half  a  dozen  times !" 

"You  shall  pay  for  this !     Oh,  you  shall  pay  for  it !" 


A  ^BROKEN  HAND.  12? 

"Lord  Oakleigh,  you  attacked  me  with  the  intent 
to  kill  me.  You  meant  it  from  the  first ;  I  saw  it  in 
your  face,  and  you  did  the  same  as  to  swear  you 
would  do  it.  Listen,  now,  my  lord :  four  separate 
times,  at  least,  your  life  was  at  my  mercy.  I  could 
have  delivered  a  blow  on  your  skull  that  would  have 
crushed  it  like  an  egg-shell ;  but  I  spared  you.  I 
may  say  to  you,  however,  don't  depend  upon  my 
sparing  you  should  you  make  a  second  attempt 
upon  me,  because  I  might  not  do  it.  And  now, 
noble  sir,  you  had  better  go  home  and  have  your 
hand  properly  cared  for." 

"You've  broken  every  bone  in  it !  Oh,  you  shall 
suffer  for  it,  be  sure  of  that !" 

"I  can  only  say  to  you  once  more,  my  lord,  thank 
me  that  I  did  not  break  your  head."  And  with  this 
our  hero,  who  had  changed  places  with  his  antago- 
nist during  the  conflict,  turned  on  his  heel  and 
walked  swiftly  away. 

Lord  Oakleigh  watched  him  till  a  bend  in  the 
path  had  hidden  him  from  view,  and  then  burst 
forth  into  a  torrent  of  oaths  and  imprecations  and 
threats  of  vengeance,  dire  and  deadly. 

By  and  by,  when  he  had  regained  sense  enough  to 
realize  the  needs  of  his  situation,  he  bethought  him 
of  what  he  had  better  do.  He  was  confident  his 
wrist  was  broken.  His  best  plan  would  be  to  see 
the  village  surgeon,  whom  he  knew  as  a  man  of  skill 
and  judgment. 

He  managed  to  pick  up  his  sword  with  his 
left  hand  and  return  it  to  its  scabbard,  after  which 


128  THE  SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

he  set  forth  for  the  village,  distant  less  than  a 
mile. 

He  was  fortunate  enough  to  find  the  surgeon  at 
home,  an  elderly  man,  and  really  skillful  in  the  way 
of  his  profession.  He  knew  the  young  lord  by 
sight,  and  was  ready,  and  even  eager,  to  be  of  serv- 
ice ;  but  with  not  a  particle  of  servility.  He  would 
have  been  just  as  earnest  to  help  the  poorest  man 
in  the  town. 

Oakleigh  told  him  he  had  received  a  kick  from  a 
horse.  And  the  surgeon,  when  he  examined  it,  de- 
cided that  it  had  been  a  pretty  furious  kick,  and  it 
was  curious  that  the  remark  should  have  fallen  from 
his  lips,  "Be  thankful,  my  lord,  it  was  not  your 
head.  You  would  never  have  come  to  me  to  fix  it 
for  you." 

His  lordship  winced,  and,  doubtless,  felt  like  swear- 
ing, but  he  contained  himself.  The  surgeon  in- 
formed him  that  two  of  the  metacarpal  bones  were 
fractured  and  dislocated  at  their  point  of  articulation 
with  the  carpus. 

"You  are  an  Oxford  man,"  said  the  doctor,  smil- 
ingly, "so,  of  course,  you  know  what  all  that 
means." 

"Certainly,"  the  sufferer  answered ;  but  he  lied, 
and  the  old  man  suspected  as  much,  but  he  made 
no  further  remark.  The  dislocation  was  reduced,  and 
the  two  central  bones  of  the  hand  were  properly  set, 
and  a  couple  of  light  splints  bound  on  to  hold  them 
in  place  while  they  healed. 

"I  must  go  to  Oxford  at   once,"  said    Oakleigh, 


A   BROKEN  HAND.  129 

when  the  surgeon  had  spoken  of  his  calling  again. 
"You  can  tell  me  how  I  must  manage." 

"When  do  you  start?" 

"This  very  day." 

"Then  keep  your  hand  in  a  good,  firm  sling ;  have 
your  servant  do  your  undressing  and  dressing  for 
you,  and  as  soon  as  you  reach  Oxford  call  on  Dr. 
Cartwright  and  let  him  look  at  it.  Mark  you,  don't 
attempt  to  use  that  hand,  and  don't  you  let  either 
of  those  splints  get  out  of  place  till  you  have  seen 
the  Oxford  surgeon." 

His  lordship  promised  obedience  with  a  nod,  paid 
the  fee,  and  departed :  his  hand — and  his  whole  arm, 
for  that  matter — giving  him  an  exquisite  sense  of 
pain. 

He  did  not  think  of  wishing  that  he  had  kept 
clear  of  Percy  Maitland.  In  that  direction  his 
thoughts  were  only  of  vengeance ;  and  the  impreca- 
tions that  fell  from  his  lips  were  terrible. 

Meantime  our  hero  had  kept  on  up  the  river  path. 
He  was  bound  for  the  old  chapel,  having  determined 
to  make  a  search  for  the  secret  which  he  firmly 
believed  had  existence  there.  He  had  thought  of 
calling  on  Cordelia  to  accompany  him,  knowing  that 
she  would  be  anxious  to  do  so,  did  she  know  of  his 
purpose,  but  he  could  not  do  it.  After  the  advent- 
ure of  the  preceding  evening,  his  calling  her  out 
would  loosen  people's  tongues ;  and  even  she  might 
deem  it  an  unwarrantable  liberty. 

Ah !  he  would  not  have  felt  this  way  four-and- 
twenty  hours  before.  The  whole  world  had  changed 


130  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

to  him  in  that  time.  A  great  joy  had  entered  into 
his  lowly  life,  uplifting  and  sanctifying  it,  a  joy  which 
must  be  kept  hidden  from  the  world  until  it  could 
be  published  with  safety  to  his  darling. 

Henceforth  the  end  and  aim  of  his  existence  would 
be  to  care  for  and  bless  the  dear  one  who  had  so 
frankly  and  nobly  trusted  him ;  and  for  the  present, 
for  her  comfort  and  well-being,  their  love  must  be 
known  only  to  themselves. 

Ah !  he  would  be  very  careful  that  he  did  not  give 
any  one  cause  for  suspicion.  He  could  not  be  quite 
so  free  as  he  had  been.  He  would  go  on  his  present 
excursion  alone,  and  Cordelia  should  decide  for  her- 
self how  it  should  be  thereafter. 

It  was  near  noon  when  Percy  reached  the  old 
chapel.  He  entered  and  looked  around.  All  was 
as  they  had  found  it  on  the  previous  day. 

He  went  to  the  corner  where  the  stone  cubes  were, 
and  sat  down  where  he  had  sat  on  the  evening 
before.  For  a  little  time  he  gave  himself  up  to 
thoughts  of  the  blissful  moment  that  had  come  to 
*  him  amid  storm  and  tempest.  He  lived  them  over 
again ;  and,  naturally  enough,  his  mind  ran  on  into 
the  future.  What  should  it  bring?  Would  he  ever 
be  permitted  to  make  the  daughter  of  an  English 
nobleman  his  wife? 

"But  she  loves  me !  She  loves  me !"  he  cried  in 
tones  of  rapture ;  "and  with  her  dear  love  I  will  be 
content.  If  darkness  and  disaster  must  come,  I  will 
not  court  it.  I  will  love  her  while  life  is  mine,  and 
love  shall  be  my  joy.  Oh !  that  can  not  be  taken 


A   BROKEN  HAND.  131 

from  me !  That  is  a  part  of  myself  that  will  endure 
while  I  live,  and  can  only  die  when  I  am  done  with 
earth." 

Shortly  after  this  he  gave  his  attention  to  the 
business  on  which  he  came.  He  looked  first  and 
calculated  the  direction  in  which  the  spectral  figure 
had  gone  after  passing  the  center  of  the  chapel. 

It  had  been  directly  toward  the  altar,  and  there, 
very  nearly  at  the  right-hand  corner  of  the  huge 
block  of  stone  as  he  stood  facing  it,  the  figure  had 
last  been  seen. 

He  now  approached  the  altar  and  looked  around 
upon  the  pavement  in  its  neighborhood.  It — the 
pavement — was  composed  of  flags  of  a  bluish-gray 
stone,  square  in  form  and  fully  three  feet  across,  laid 
in  cement.  He  got  down  upon  his  knees  and  with 
the  strong  blade  of  his  pocket-knife  sought  to  find  a 
crack  or  a  crevice  of  any  kind  between  the  stones  of 
the  floor. 

But  his  search  was  vain.     Fully  half  an  hour  was 
spent  thus,  and  to  no  effect.     The  pavement  over^' 
that  whole  part  of  the  chapel  was  as  intact,  as  firm 
and  solid  as  though  it  had  been  a  single  mass,  with- 
out break  or  flaw. 

Where  could  it  be?  He  examined  the  altar  itself. 
Certainly  there  was  no  possible  opening  in  any 
part  of  that.  It  was  a  single  block  of  stone,  without 
flaw  or  blemish. 

The  explorer  looked  around  at  the  open  windows. 
Not  by  any  one  of  them  could  the  seeming  monk 
have  gone.  That  was  decided  at  once.  Where  then? 


132  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

Had  the  whole  thing  been  a  wild,  fantastical  hal- 
lucination? Only  a  dream?  Could  it  be  possible 
that  they  had  seen  nothing? 

Could  it  be  that  the  very  excursion  itself,  together 
with  what  he  had  deemed  the  most  rapturous  event 
of  his  life — could  that  have  been  but  a  baseless  vis- 
ion of  his  distempered  brain? 

He  looked  down,  and  his  eyes  rested  upon  his 
poor  staff — its  beautiful,  evenly  spotted  and  highly 
polished  surface,  erstwhile  so  smooth  and  fair,  now 
marred  and  cut,  and  bruised  and  hacked  by  its  rough 
contact  with  the  edge  of  Lord  Oakleigh's  sword. 
Ah !  that  had  been  real  at  all  events,  and  he  very 
soon  told  himself  that  all  that  had  gone  before  had 
been  real. 

Yes — the  gray  friar  had  certainly  vanished  from 
sight  at  that  altar.  There  had  been  no  deception ; 
no  hallucination — the  departure  had  been  a  fact ; 
and  that  was  the  end. 

He  had  given  up,  and  had  turned,  in  deep  dejec- 
tion, toward  the  vestibule  for  the  purpose  of  depart- 
ing, when  suddenly  a  new  thought  came  to  him, 
under  the  influence  of  which  he  stopped,  and  pres- 
ently went  back  to  the  altar. 

Was  it  cemented  to  the  pavement?  Was  it 
secured  in  its  place  in  any  way?  Again  he  went 
down  on  his  knees,  with  his  pocket-knife  in  his  hand. 

He  commenced  at  the  rear  wall,  at  the  end  of  the 
huge  block  where  the  specter  had  stood,  and  exam- 
ined the  point  of  connection  between  it  and  the 
pavement. 


A   BROKEN  HAND.  133 

Ah!  he  found  places  where  he  could  insert  the 
knife-blade.  He  arose,  and  went  outside  and  cut  a 
small  twig  from  a  bush  near  by,  the  wood  of  which 
was  tough  and  elastic.  This  he  shaved  down  to  a 
long,  thin  strip,  and  returned  to  his  work. 

He  commenced  again  at  the  rear  wall,  brushing 
away  the  accumulated  dust,  and  probed  with  the 
new  implement.  And  so  he  went  entirely  around 
the  altar;  and  at  no  point  had  it  any  further  con- 
nection with  the  pavement  than  simply  to  rest 
upon  it. 

He  was  gazing  upon  the  line,  between  the  lower 
edge  of  the  block  and  the  floor,  when  something 
caught  his  eye  that  caused  him  to  start. 

It  was  a  series  of  marks — abrasions — extending 
out  from  the  edge  of  the  altar,  with  a  circular  sweep, 
entirely  across  one  of  the  broad  stone  flags.  What 
did  it  mean?  What  could  have  done  it? 

A  critical  examination,  with  a  little  calculation, 
showed  him  that  exactly  such  an  abrasion  as  that 
would  have  been  made  by  the  swinging  outward  of 
the  altar,  away  from  the  wall. 

Suppose  the  huge  block  could  swing  on  a  pivot 
fixed  at  the  corner  next  to  the  wall,  at  its  eastern 
end — the  end  on  the  left  hand,  as  one  stood  facing 
it.  With  a  pivot  at  that  point,  a  swinging  outward 
of  the  giant  cube  would  produce  exactly  the  marks 
he  had  discovered. 

And  why  were  they  on  that  one  flag,  and  no 
where  else?  Simply  because  that  flag  was  an  eighth 
of  an  inch  higher  than  its  mates. 


134  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

He  stood  back  and  looked.  He  felt  that  he  had 
made  an  important  discovery. 

Somewhere,  out  of  sight,  was  mechanism  by  which 
the  altar,  ponderous  as  it  was,  could  be  moved  out 
of  place ;  and  there,  beneath  it,  would  be  found  an 
entrance  to  regions  below.  He  was  as  sure  of  it  as 
he  could  be  of  anything  which  his  eyes  had  not 
absolutely  beheld.  And  further,  there  must  be 
some  very  simple  and  ready  way  of  setting  the  mass 
free,  and  moving  it  from  the  wall.  Enormous 
weights  with  easily  working  pulleys  operating 
beneath  might  do  it. 

In  fact,  the  explorer  as  he  contemplated  the  scene 
could  imagine  several  ways  in  which  the  end  might 
be  accomplished.  But  that  did  not  help  him. 
Where  was  the  point  of  connection  outside? 

That  was  the  thing  now,  and  the  only  thing.  It 
must  be  very  simple,  wherever  it  was.  The  friar 
had  accomplished  the  work  of  opening  and  closing 
the  way  very  quickly,  and  with  but  little  noise.  Our 
adventurer  looked  around  once  more,  and  once  more 
stood  and  reflected,  with  his  head  bent  and  his 
hands  folded. 

Again  he  went  down  upon  his  knees,  and  with  his 
probe  went  entirely  around  the  altar  a  second  time, 
closely  examining  the  line  of  separation  between  the 
cube  and  the  floor.  And  this  time  he  noticed  some- 
thing which  he  had  not  noticed  before. 

On  the  left-hand—easterly—end  of  the  altar,  the 
space  between  it  and  the  pavement  was  marked. 
At  the  other  end  the  huge  block  of  stone  sat  firmly 


A    BROKEN  HAND.  135 

upon  the  flagging,  there  being  places  where  even  the 
thinnest  probe  he  could  fashion  would  not  enter.; 
but  on  that  left-hand  end  it  was  different. 

There  the  stone  of  the  altar  came  in  direct  contact 
with  the  pavement  at  no  single  point ! 

And  he  found  another  thing:  from  the  outer  cor- 
ner on  that  left-hand  end  to  a  point  midway  on  the 
front  side,  that  line  of  separation  continued. 

It  was  very  slight — not  more  than  ah  eighth  of  an 
inch  in  width — and  would  never  be  detected  by  a 
person  while  standing  erect.  He  would  have  to 
stoop  to  find  it.  Was  there  any  meaning  to  this? 
Could  the  ponderous  block  possibly  be  tilted  over 
toward  that  easterly  end? 

Just  half  its  bulk  at  bottom  appeared  to  be  free 
from  resting  upon  the  floor  beneath,  so  there  might 
be  just  that  eighth  of  an  inch  play  in  case  it  could 
be  moved. 

Percy  looked  the  ground  over  once  more,  and 
then  went  around  to  the  opposite — the  westerly — 
end  of  the  altar.  That  was  where  the  spectral  monk 
had  last  been  seen. 

Cculd  the  massive  block  be  jostled?  He  laid  his 
hands  *jpon  the  upper  edge,  then  stooped  slightly, 
so  as  *t>  lift  at  the  stone  when  he  should  put  forth 
his  strength,  and  then  made  the  trial.  He  did  not 
apply  his  full  force  in  the  outset.  It  was  an  experi- 
ment, and  he  wished  to  note  particularly  the  result. 

With  his  two  hands  fixed  in  place,  and  his  lower 
limbs  firmly  braced,  he  lifted,  lightly  at  first,  and 
then  with  renewed  force. 


136  THE  SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

By  and  by,  acting  upon  the  impulse  of  the  mo- 
ment, he  gave  a  sudden  upward  pressure  with  all 
his  might.  The  result  was  wonderful. 

First,  he  felt  the  heavy  mass  yield ;  next,  he 
heard  a  dull  thud  followed  by  a  rattling,  grating 
sound  beneath  the  floor ;  and,  a  moment  later,  the 
ponderous  cube,  starting  away  from  its  rest  against 
the  rear  wall  of  the  chapel,  swung  outward  for  a  dis- 
tance equal  to'  its  own  depth,  perhaps  a  little  more. 

And  there,  exposed  to  his  view,  was  an  opening 
in  the  pavement  seemingly  as  long  and  as  broad  as 
the  altar  would  safely  cover ;  and  on  looking  down 
he  saw  the  head  of  a  ladder  resting  against  the  side 
nearest  to  him. 

His  first  thought  was  of  the  mechanism  by  which 
this  wonderful  result  had  been  wrought ;  and  for  the 
purpose  of  discovering  that  he  went  part  way  down 
the  ladder.  He  examined  thoroughly,  and  found  it 
very  nearly  as  he  had  thought.  A  system  of  enor- 
mous weights,  slung  in  chains  of  copper,  the  chains 
working  in  easily  running  blocks,  were  so  arranged 
that  upon  setting  the  weights  free  the  stone  would 
be  moved,  as  we  have  seen.  The  huge  stone  itself 
swung  upon  a  pivot,  at  the  inner,  eastern  corner,  and 
at  the  other  end  underneath  were  small  trucks  on 
which  it  traveled  over  the  flagging,  and  which  had 
caused  the  abrasions  which  had  attracted  the  ex- 
plorer's attention. 

The  tipping  of  the  rock  backward  set  the  spring 
free,  and  our  hero  remembered  that  he  had  instinct- 
ively applied  his  force  towards  moving  the  stone 


IN   THE   SECRET  CRYPT,  137 

away  from  the  wall  until  it  had  stopped,  and  then 
he  had  heard  a  sharp  click,  as  though  another  spring 
had  been  caught. 

Would  tipping  the  stone  again  cause  it  to  re- 
sume its  former  position  against  the  wall?  He 
thought  so. 

The  next  question  he  asked  himself  was,  Should 
he  unarmed  and  without  a  light,  attempt  to  explore 
the  wonderful  place  he  had  so  curiously  discovered? 


CHAPTER  XL 

IN  THE   SECRET   CRYPT. 

HAVING  discovered  so  much,  our  hero  could  not 
be  content  to  leave  the  place  without  knowing 
something  more.  He  did  not  expect  that  he  could 
explore  to  any  great  extent  without  the  aid  of  arti- 
ficial light ;  but  he  could  see  the  manner  of  place  it 
was  immediately  below  him,  and  he  might  be  able 
to  determine  something  of  its  depth  and  general 
character. 

Of  course  there  was  a  way  or  means  of  closing 
and  opening  the  trap  from  below;  but  he  did  not 
care  then  to  stop  for  the  investigation  of  that  part 
of  the  problem. 

So  he  went  out  and  took  a  survey  around  to  make 
sure  that  no  one  else  was  in  sight,  then  returned 
and  made  ready  for  the  descent  into  the  unknown 
regions. 


138  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

He  had  no  weapon  save  his  battered  leopard 
wood  staff ;  but  that  had  served  him  once,  and  it 
might  serve  him  again  should  the  need  present 
itself. 

He  took  one  more  look  around,  then  put  his  foot 
upon  the  ladder  and  began  the  descent.  The  dis- 
tance was  not  far,  perhaps  twelve  to  fourteen  feet, 
at  the  end  of  which  he  alighted  upon  a  bottom  of 
rock  and  quite  rough. 

As  nearly  as  could  be  judged  with  the  aid  of  the 
light  he  had,  he  concluded  the  crypt  to  be  mostly 
the  work  of  nature.  Evidently  the  old  monks  or 
whoever  had  built  the  chapel,  had  found  the  cavern 
beneath  and  had  thus  utilized  it. 

It  was  irregular  in  form,  its  greatest  width  at  the 
point  where  he  now  stood  being  nine  full  paces,  not 
far  from  twenty-seven  feet. 

As  soon  as  he  had  become  more  used  to  the  gloom 
he  moved  on  ahead,  very  soon  making  a  new  dis- 
covery, and  one  of  importance. 

At  the  point  where  he  had  landed  from  the  ladder 
the  cavern  had  been  entirely  bare,  the  only  things 
to  attract  his  attention,  besides  the  jagged  walls, 
being  the  somewhat  complicated  and  bulky  machin- 
ery by  which  the  altar  was  moved  to  and  fro ;  but 
he  had  not  advanced  many  steps  into  the  place 
before  he  came  in  contact  with  things  that  opened 
his  eyes  and  sharpened  his  understanding. 

Piled  against  the  walls  on  either  hand  were  bar- 
rels and  casks  and  boxes,  some  of  which  appeared 
to  have  been  there  a  long  time,  w'lile  others  were 


IN   THE   SECRET  CRYPT.  139 

evidently  of  more  recent  deposit.  A  little  further 
on  the  cave  narrowed,  and  was  buried  in  darkness, 
but  he  believed  there  was  a  widening  again  further 
on.  In  this  narrower  part  were  a  few  boxes,  and  a 
lot  of  ship's  rigging — ropes,  blocks,  and  old  sails. 

Ah!  Another  thing  struck  the  explorer;  and  it 
struck  him  forcibly.  It  was  a  strong  draught  of  air 
fresh  from  the  sea !  He  was  too  well  used  to  the 
atmosphere  of  the  sea  to  mistake  it  when  it  came 
full  in  his  face,  and  rilled  his  nostrils  and  his  lungs. 

And  now  he  could  understand.  In  the  slope  of 
the  crag  towards  the  shore  of  the  bay  were  several 
caves,  two  of  which  were  of  considerable*  size. 

One  of  these  latter — he  thought  he  knew  which 
one  it  was — had  a  secret  opening  into  a  passage 
leading  to  the  place  where  he  now  stood ;  and  the 
smugglers  had  discovered  it  and  were  making  use 
of  it. 

Many  things  which  had  heretofore  puzzled  him 
were  clear  to  him  now.  His  father,  he  was  confi- 
dent, had  known  nothing  of  this  cavern. 

During  his  father's  lifetime  he  had  known  how  all 
the  goods  landed  at  the  Cove  were  disposed  of;  but 
it  had  not  been  so  since  his  death. 

Of  late — within  the  three  years  last  past — there 
had  to  his  certain  knowledge  been  many  things 
brought  in  that  had  never  been  taken  further  inland, 
to  be  disposed  of  among  the  people  there  residing. 

One  occasion,  in  particular,  he  called  to  mind.  It 
happened  a  year  previously.  He  had  gone  on  board 
the  brig  one  evening,  and  had  seen  a  number  of 


14°  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

boxes  brought  up  from  the  hold  and  deposited  on 
deck. 

On  the  following  morning  he  had  been  called  on 
board  again,  when  he  found  the  boxes  gone;  yet  he 
knew  that  no  team  had  left  the  landing,  and  that  no 
boat  had  gone  up  the  river. 

But  it  was  all  clear  now.  The  goods  had  been 
landed  at  night  at  the  foot  of  the  crag,  and  taken  up 
to  the  cave.  When  the  secret  had  been  first  discov- 
ered by  the  smugglers  he  could  not  imagine;  nor 
could  he  tell  by  whom,  though  he  strongly  sus- 
pected that  Ralph  Tryon  had  been  the  first  to  make 
use  of  it  as  a  depository  of  contraband,  and,  perhaps, 
for  pirated  goods. 

Having  discovered  so  much,  and  having  further 
determined  that  the  space  ahead  was  wrapped  in 
total  darkness,  Percy  concluded  to  leave  further 
explorations  to  another  and  more  favorable  oppor- 
tunity. 

Furthermore,  he  determined  that  he  would 
acquaint  the  earl  with  the  discovery  he  had  made 
and  leave  future  proceedings  to  his  direction.  It 
would  be  proper  so  to  do,  and  it  would  be  right. 

Thus  thinking  he  turned  about  and  started  to 
retrace  his  steps.  He  had  gone  but  a  short  distance 
on  his  return  when  his  eye  caught  an  object  he  had 
not  before  seen.  The  fact  was,  his  eyes  had  become 
used  to  the  dim  light,  and  he  saw  things  more  dis- 
tinctly. 

Standing  on  the  stone  bottom,  just  under  the 
head  of  one  of  the  casks— a  cask  that  had  been 


IN   THE   SECRET  CRYPT.  141 

set  up  on  two  small  boxes — he  espied  a  drinking 
cup. 

He  stooped  and  picked  it  up  and  made  sure  it  was 
of  silver  and  heavy  at  that.  He  further  observed 
that  in  the  head  of  the  cask,  close  to  the  lower  chine, 
was  a  wooden  faucet. 

The  fancy  possessed  him  to  see  what  the  cask 
contained ;  so,  stooping  down,  he  gave  the  tap  of 
the  faucet  a  turn,  and  speedily  a  liquid  trickled  out. 
He  gave  another  turn  and  held  the  cup  under  it. 

The  first  drawn  he  used  to  rinse  the  drinking- 
vessel  with,  and  with  it  filled  a  second  time  he  arose 
and  stepped  to  where  he  had  more  light. 

The  liquid,  as  the  fumes  had  told  him,  was  wine, 
and  there  could  be  no  mistaking  its  character  or 
quality.  It  was  old  port,  very  strong,  yet  smooth  as 
oil.  It  must  have  been  old  when  first  deposited  in 
its  present  place  of  rest,  and  now  the  taster  decided 
it  to  be  the  finest  wine  of  the  kind  he  had  ever  put 
to  his  lips. 

Being  well  assured  that  no  harmful  ingredient 
could  have  found  its  way  into  the  cask,  he  drank  the 
potion  and  felt  the  better  for  it,  but  he  wanted  no 
more.  Much  wine  of  that  quality  would  give  to  his 
head  a  buzzing  not  at  all  desirable. 

Up  the  ladder,  once  more  on  the  pavement  of  the 
chapel,  our  hero  looked  around.  Everything  was  as 
he  had  left  it.  And  now  to  move  the  altar  back  to 
its  original  place.  With  his  hands  on  the  upper 
edge,  as  before,  he  put  forth  his  strength,  this  time 
at  once  and  quickly.  He  heard  the  sharp  click,  as 


14*  THE   SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

before,  and  immediately  the  ponderous  mass  swung 
back  against  the  wall,  with  not  a  sign  left  to  tell 
that  a  strange  hand  had  been  tampering  with  the 
mystery  of  the  old  chapel. 

One  mystery  had  been  solved ;  but,  in  some 
respects,  a  greater  yet  remained  in  the  dark.  He 
had  discovered  how  the  seeming  monk  had  made  his 
exit  from  the  chapel,  but  he  had  not  discovered  the 
meaning  of  the  face  that  monk  had  worn.  He  knew 
not  how  many  times  he  had  recalled  the  scene,  how 
many  moments  he  had  spent  in  thinking  of  it ;  he 
only  knew  that  the  more  he  reflected  the  more  sure 
he  became  that  his  eyes  had  not  played  him  false. 

Beneath  that  gray  cowl  he  had  as  surely  seen  a 
face  like  his  father's  as  he  was  sure  that  he  had  seen 
the  figure  at  all.  But  he  had  seen  it  in  profile. 
Perhaps  could  he  see  that  same  face  in  full  front 
view  it  might  appear  different  to  him. 

Yet,  it  was  marvelous ;  and  he  could  not  think  of 
it  without  wonder.  He  could  only  hope  that  the 
time  might  come  when  he  could  look  upon  the  gray 
friar  under  other  circumstances. 

If  he  was  one  of  the  smugglers,  or  was  engaged  in 
their  business  on  shore,  he  might  yet  be  trapped. 
Who  should  say? 

Upon  leaving  the  chapel  our  adventurer  took  his 
way  at  once  towards  the  castle,  being  resolved  that 
the  earl  should  be  made  acquainted  with  his  dis- 
covery in  the  outset.  He  had  no  fear  of  Lord  Oak- 
leigh.  It  would  not  be  over  and  above  pleasant  to 
meet  him ;  yet  he  would  not  go  out  of  his  way,  or, 


IN   THE   SECRET  CRYPT.  143 

at  least,  he  would  not  discommode  himself  to  avoid 
him.  How  his  lordship  would  account  for  his  lame 
hand  he  could  not  guess;  but  he  doubted  very 
much  the  telling  of  the  truth. 

He  thought  he  might  at  some  time  relate  the 
incident  to  Cordelia;  but  under  no  circumstances 
would  he  tell  the  story  to  the  earl,  unless  he  should 
be  asked ;  and  he  did  not  think  that  likely,  as  he  had 
no  idea  that  the  grandson  would  let  out  the  secret 
of  his  ruffianism. 

Arrived  at  the  castle,  the  first  person  whom  he 
met  was  the  very  one  whom  he  was  most  eager  to 
see — the  old  steward,  Michael  Dillon. 

"Michael,  I  have  had  nothing  to  eat  since  early 
morning,  and  I  have  had  a  long  hard  walk." 

"Bless  my  soul!  And  bless  you,  too,  Master 
Percy !  You  couldn't  have  come  at  a  more  fortun- 
ate time.  When  the  old  lord  is  alone  with  no  com- 
pany, he  likes  his  dinner  early;  and  we're  just  after 
carrying  it  in.  So  come  along  to  my  room  and  eat 
with  me — unless  you  prefer  to  try  the  upper  table." 

"What!  with  the  earl?" 

"To  be  sure." 

"Mercy,  no!  What  should  put  such  an  idea  into 
your  head?" 

"Why,  it  wouldn't  be  the  first  time,  not  by  a  num- 
ber; and,  besides,  I  have  a  fancy  that  the  old  lord 
rather  likes  it." 

"But  never  when  Lord  Oakleigh  is  at  the  castle" 

"Oho,  he  isn't  here !     Thank  fortune  he's  gone." 

"Gone!     Are  you  sure?" 


144  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

"Aye,  that  I  am — bag  and  baggage — he  and  his 
rascally  valet  with  him." 

"When  did  he  go  and  how?" 

"He  came  home  at  noon  with  his  arm  in  a  sling. 
He  said  a  horse  had  kicked  him  and  hurt  him  sorely, 
and  he  had  his  things  packed  up  and  a  trap  to 
take  him  over  to  Burton,  where  I  believe  he  said  he 
was  going  to  spend  the  night  with  a  friend.  He  is 
off  for  Oxford  to-morrow." 

"Was  the  earl  very  sorry  to  have  him  go?" 

"I  should  say  not.  He  makes  the  good  old  man 
very  unhappy  when  he  is  here ;  and  yet  I  sometimes 
think  he  hates  to  see  him  going,  being  so  sure  that 
he's  going  to  new  mischief.  Ah,  he's  a  bad  lot ! 
I'm  sure  I  don't  know  who  he  takes  after.  His 
father  was  one  of  the  finest  gentlemen  I  ever  knew, 
and  handsome  as  well ;  and  his  mother  was  a  born 
angel.  There  couldn't  be  a  sweeter,  purer,  or  a 
nobler  woman  than  she  was,  though  she  was  a  bit 
proud.  When  I  tell  you  that  she  was  just  as  beau- 
tiful as  is  Lady  Cordelia,  and  just  as  good,  you'll 
understand  what  I  mean.  Who  in  the  world  there 
ever  was  in  the  old  earl's  family,  on  either  side,  like 
him,  I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  It's  one  o'  them  mar- 
vels, Master  Percy,  that  you've  got  to  take  as  they 
come,  and  make  the  best  of  'em." 

They  went  in  to  dinner;  and  our  hero  made  a 
hearty  meal  and  enjoyed  it.  The  conversation  of 
the  steward  was  entertaining  and  interesting. 

He  had  been  in  the  earl's  employ,  boy  and 
man,  more  than  half  a  century,  having  been  born 


77V   THE   SECRET  CRYPT.  145 

on  the  estate  little  more  than  three  score  years 
before. 

"By  the  way,"  the  old  man  said  towards  the  close 
of  the  meal,  "it's  curious  that  we've  never  seen  any- 
thing of  the  new  captain  of  the  smugglers  at  the 
castle.  Your  father,  my  boy,  used  to  come  up  quite 
often ;  and  a  few  of  us  were  glad  enough  to  purchase 
a  few  creature  comforts  that  he  had  to  dispose  of. 
Of  course,  the  earl  never  traded  with  him ;  but, 
for  all  that,  more  than  one  bottle  of  wine  from  his 
cargo,  and  more  than  one  chest  of  tea,  found  their 
way  into  his  lordship's  larder  and  upon  his  table. 
From  what  I  hear,  I  should  judge  the  new  cap- 
tain— Tryon — to  be  rather  a  poor  sort  of  a  stick." 

"Then  you  never  saw  him?" 

"Not  that  I  know  of." 

"He  is  a  bad  man,  Michael — a  man  that  I  keep 
clear  of." 

"Yes,  I've  heard  so.  They  don't  speak  well  of 
him  anywhere.  Even  the  old  landlord  of  the  Aller- 
dale  Arms  don't  like  him ;  and  when  Martin  Van- 
yard  turns  against  a  smuggler  you  may  be  sure 
there's  a  reason  for  it." 

"I  was  not  aware,  before,"  said  Percy,  "that  Cap- 
tain Tryon  had  never  shown  himself  at  the  castle. 
However,  he  doesn't  appear  to  spend  much  of  his 
time  in  this  section  any  way.  As  soon  as  his  vessel 
gets  in  he  is  sure  to  be  off.  Where  he  goes  I  do  not 
know ;  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  care  less.  There  is 
something  about  the  man  that  puzzles  me,  and  for 
that  I  would  like  to  gain  a  more  intimate  acquaint- 


146  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

ance.  I  would  like  to  follow  him  on  one  of  his 
journeys  and  see  what  he  does  with  himself — where 
he  goes,  and  in  what  guise  he  appears  when  there." 

"Eh!  D'ye  fancy  he's  playin'  a  kind  of  hide  and 
seek? — that  he's  got  another  character?" 

"Yes.  I  am  sure  of  it,  and  I  intend  to  unmask 
him  one  of  these  days.  In  fact,  the  time  may  not 
be  far  distant." 

"Well,  if  he's  as  big  a  rascal  as  I've  heard  it  whis- 
pered, I  hope  he  may  be  nabbed  very  soon." 

"Ah !"  exclaimed  the  youth,  with  a  slight  start, 
and  a  curious  look  into  the  old  man's  face,  "what  sort 
of  whispers  have  you  heard,  Michael?" 

The  steward  hesitated.  After  gazing  for  a  time 
into  his  glass,  and  taking  a  swallow  of  wine,  he 
said: 

"Really,  Percy,  I  don't  know  as  I  ought  to  speak; 
but  then  it's  no  secret,  and  it's  whispered  pretty 
loudly,  too.  They  say — I've  heard  old  Martin  at 
the  inn  say — that  there  was  more  carried  on  by  the 
new  captain  of  the  Staghound  than  smuggling.  I 
s'pose  you  know  what  that  means?" 

"Yes.     I  know.     Has  it  come  to  the  earl's  ears?" 

"I'm  not  sure ;  but  I  think  it  has.  Mebbe,  Percy, 
you  know  about  it." 

"Michael,  whatever  I  may  know  with  regard  to  a 
change  in  the  character  of  the  brig  has  come  to  my 
knowledge  within  eight-and-forty  hours.  I  shall 
myself  speak  with  the  earl  on  this  subject ;  so  you 
and  I  will  discuss  it  no  more." 

"But  you'll  tell  me  some  time,  my  boy?" 


IN   THE   SECRET  CRYPT.  147 

"Yes ;  you  shall  know  all  about  it,  just  as  soon  as 
there  is  something  tangible  discovered." 

Shortly  after  this  the  meal  came  to  an  end,  and 
the  young  man  made  his  way  to  one  of  the  smaller 
drawing-rooms,  where  Cordelia  was  in  the  habit  of 
sitting,  and  where  he  had  given  her  his  instruction 
while  acting  in  the  capacity  of  private  tutor. 

He  found  the  lady  there,  and  with  her  was  the  old 
earl.  She  arose  instantly  on  his  entrance,  and  ap- 
proached him  with  her  hand  outstretched. 

She  smiled,  as  she  always  smiled  on  meeting  him ; 
but  to  him  there  was  a  new  flush  on  her  lovely  face; 
a  new  warmth  in  her  greeting,  and  a  new  light  in 
her  radiant  eyes. 

"Percy,  I  am  glad  you  have  come.  You  can 
tell  dear  grandpa  all  about'  what  we  saw  in  the  old 
chapel  last  night." 

"My  lord,"  said  the  visitor,  turning  to  the  earl, 
after  he  had  responded  to  Cordelia's  greeting,  "I 
have  come  on  purpose  to  speak  with  you.  I  think 
I  have  something  to  tell  that  will  interest  you." 

Now  Lord  Allerdale  had  made  up  his  mind — had 
firmly  resolved — that  the  next  time  he  should  meet 
with  young  Maitland  he  would  treat  him  respect- 
fully, and  not  unkindly;  but  he  would  make  him 
feel  that  he  must  know  his  place  and  keep  it. 

He  would  never  unbend  to  him  again — never  again 
give  his  hand  as  a  friend.  It  would  not  answer. 

And  this  was  the  next  meeting.  The  old  man 
had  arisen  when  his  grandchild  spoke,  and  as  he 
turned  and  rested  his  gaze  upon  the  handsome  face, 


148  THE   SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

and  ran  his  eyes  over  the  fine,  manly  form,  and  met 
the  warm,  generous  smile,  and  heard  the  rich,  frank, 
truthful  voice,  his  poor  resolutions  vanished  into  for- 
getfulness,  and  the  old  love  and  admiration,  together 
with  the  old  trust  and  confidence,  came  back  to 
him. 

He  put  forth  his  hand  without  knowing  it — put  it 
forth  as  it  had  been  his  wont  to  do,  and  smiled  be- 
nignantly,  almost  paternally,  as  he  said  in  a  frank, 
genial  tone  and  manner  so  natural  to  him : 

"Percy,  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  Sit  right  down 
here,  and  let's  have  your  wonderful  story.  If  you 
can  hold  your  own  with  Cordelia  I  shall  give  you 
full  credit." 

"I  will  not  presume,  my  lord,"  said  the  young 
man,  "to  tell  over  again  anything  that  your  grand- 
daughter may  have  told  you ;  for  I  know  she  must 
have  done  full  justice  to  her  subject.  I  suppose," 
turning  to  the  lady,  "you  have  told  all  about  what 
we  saw  in  the  old  chapel?" 

"Yes.  I've  told  everything  I  could  think  of;  but 
you  might  remember  things  that  I  have  forgotten." 

"No  fear  of  that,  dear  lady.  But  listen :  I  have 
been  to  the  chapel  to-day." 

"What !     And  never  told  me?" 

"Hush,  darling!"  interposed  the  old  nobleman,  as 
the  girl  broke  in.  "Let  the  young  man  speak.  I 
can  see  by  his  look  that  he  has  something  of  impor- 
tance to  tell  us." 

"I  have  indeed,  my  lord."  And  thereupon,  clearly 
and  concisely,  and  with  real  dramatic  elegance  and 


IN  THE   SECRET  CRYPT.  149 

force,  he  went  on  and  told  the  story  of  his  wonder- 
ful discovery  of  a  few  hours  before. 

He  told  how  he  had  reached  the  chapel,  and  how 
he  had  pondered  and  studied,  and  how  he  had 
finally  discovered  the  secret  of  moving  the  ponder- 
ous block  of  stone  forming  the  altar. 

And  then  he  told  of  the  crypt  beneath,  of  what 
he  had  found  in  it,  and  how  he  had  determined  that 
the  secret  vault  was  connected  with  one  or  more  of 
the  caves  on  the  long  slope  of  the  Witch's  Crag, 
towards  the  bay. 

Cordelia  had  contained  herself  with  difficulty  dur- 
ing the  recital,  and  at  its  conclusion  she  was  eager 
to  burst  forth  in  her  impulsive  way. 

She  was  greatly  disappointed  that  he  should  have 
gone  without  her;  but  a  look  which  he  bent  upon 
her  after  he  had  closed,  together  with  several  glances 
which  he  had  given  her  while  he  had  been  speaking, 
told  her  why  he  had  not  come  to  her.  She  under- 
stood and  was  content.  Be  sure,  however,  she  was 
determined  that  the  next  visit  would  not  be  made 
without  her. 

The  earl  had  listened  patiently,  but  eagerly,  to  the 
end.  Not  a  word  escaped  him,  nor  an  intonation. 

"My  dear  boy,"  he  exclaimed,  warmly  and  grate- 
fully, "you  do  not  know  what  a  favor  you  have  done 
me.  The  whole  thing  is  now  plain  to  me  and  my 
duty  clear.  Of  course,  I  may  depend  upon  your 
assistance." 

"You  may,  my  lord,  depend  upon  me  for  every, 
thing  within  my  power  to  do." 


150  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

"What  put  it  into  your  head  to  think  of  that  par- 
ticular way  of  moving  the  altar?" 

The  young  man  explained  by  pointing  to  a 
square-topped  table  that  stood  near.  He  told  how 
he  had  found  the  end  where  the  huge  stone  was 
clear  of  the  pavement,  while  at  the  other  end  it 
rested  on  it ;  and  how  that  had  led  him  to  make  the 
trials  which  had  proved  successful. 

"And  to  think  that  all  these  years  I  have  searched 
in  vain !  Well,  the  credit  is  yours,  my  boy ;  and  I 
am  glad  you  have  found  it.  If  I  am  not  mistaken, 
we  have  an  important  work  before  us."  At  this 
point  the  earl  bent  his  head  upon  his  hand,  and 
remained  for  a  considerable  time  buried  in  a  pro- 
found meditation. 

"Grandpa!"  called  his  fair  ward,  becoming  restless 
and  impatient  in  the  dead  silence,  "what  are  you 
thinking  about?" 

He  started  quickly  and  raised  his  head.  Twice  he 
passed  his  hand  to  and  fro  across  his  eyes,  and 
finally,  with  a  look  of  deep  anxiety  on  his  frank, 
honest  face,  he  spoke. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

AN  EXPLORING   EXPEDITION. 

"MAITLAND,"  said  the  earl,  with  a  look  upon  the 
youth  full  of  confidence  and  esteem,  "the  time  has 
come  when  I  must  speak  frankly  with  you ;  and  I 
shall  trust  that  you  will  be  equally  frank  with  me." 


AN  EXPLORING  EXPEDITION.  151 

"Lord  Allerdale,"  Percy  returned,  with  a  depth  of 
feeling  that  imparted  a  perceptible  tremor  to  his 
voice  and  to  his  frame,  "say  to  me  what  you  will — 
ask  me  what  you  will — and  I  will  reply  to  you  as  I 
can.  I  will  answer  everything  within  my  power  to 
answer;  and  if  I  offer  a  suggestion  or  a  remark  of 
any  kind  it  shall  be  frankly  and  truthfully  done." 

"I  believe  you,  my  boy.  I  will  not  hesitate  to  say 
I  have  perfect  confidence  in  you."  He  paused  a  few 
seconds,  and  then  went  on : 

"You  have  no  doubt,  I  suppose,  that  the  cavern 
which  you  so  wonderfully  discovered  is,  at  the  pres- 
ent time,  used  by  the  crew  of  the  smuggler  brig, 
the  Staghound?" 

"I  am  confident  that  such  is  the  case,  my  lord." 

"Percy,  I  am  now  going  to  ask  you  a  question 
which  you  will  answer  as  you  think  proper.  What 
is  your  candid  opinion  of  the  present  character  of 
the  crew  of  that  vessel?" 

"I  would  divide  the  crew  into  two  classes,  my 
lord,"  answered  the  youth,  promptly,  and  with  a 
bold  frank  look  into  the  old  man's  earnest  eyes. 
"There  are  men  of  that  crew  who  are  good  and 
true — men  who  are  outlawed,  I  know,  but  who  have 
much  excuse  for  the  course  of  life  into  which  they 
have  been  led.  Another  part  of  the  crew,  including 
the  chief,  I  believe  to  be  about  as  bad — as  wicked — 
as  it  is  possible  for  men  to  be." 

"Do  you  think,  my  boy,"  the  earl  pursued,  greatly 
excited,  "that  they — the  bad  men — are — have  been 
guilty  of  piracy  on  board  that  brig?" 


152  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

"My  lord,  had  you  asked  me  that  question  two 
days  ago,  I  could  not  have  answered  it  as  I  can 
answer  it  now.  To  accommodate  old  friends — to 
save  from  possible  disaster  those  who  had  been  kind 
to  me,  and  loving,  in  my  boyhood,  in  the  absence  of 
the  chief,  I  went  out  and  piloted  the  brig  in. 
While  on  board  I  saw  that  which  surprised  me ;  and 
I  questioned  one  whom  I  knew  I  could  trust. 

"I  will  not  speak  his  name.  I  will  only  say  of 
him  further,  he  and  a  score  and  more  with  him  have 
resolved  that  the  piratical  brig  shall  know  them  no 
more.  By  no  consent  of  theirs,  but  against  their 
earnest  protest,  the  iniquitous  work  has  been  car- 
ried on. 

"Yes,  my  lord — those  bad  men,  with  the  chief  at 
their  head,  have  been  guilty  of  piracy.  The  brig  is 
even  now  fresh  from  a  piratical  venture.  A  portion 
of  her  cargo  may  have  been  honestly  purchased,  to 
be  dishonestly  disposed  of  in  England ;  but  I  verily 
believe  the  bulk  of  the  property  she  has  on  board 
was  robbed  from  other  vessels." 

"And  the  brig  is  at  this  moment  in  the  cove?" 

"Yes." 

"Have  you  any  idea  of  what  they  are  doing  with 
the  cargo?" 

"I  do  not  think  any  of  it  has  yet  been  moved. 
They  are  waiting  for  the  return  of  their  chief,  who 
is  at  present  away." 

"Percy,  who  is  this  chief?" 

"Have  you  seen  him,  my  lord?" 

"He  was  pointed  out  to  me  once  at  the  village.     I 


AN  EXPLORING  EXPEDITION.  153 

can  only  remember  that  he  reminded  me  of  a  big 
brown  bear,  though  more  of  the  color  of  a  lion." 

"Lord  Allerdale,  I  can  tell  you  nothing  of  the 
man  that  would  inform  you.  He  is  an  enigma  to 
me.  I  only  hope  we  may  have  the  opportunity  for 
a  closer  acquaintance  ere  long.  I  know  him  to  be  a 
villain ;  if  there  is  any  good  in  his  composition,  it  is 
unknown  to  me." 

The  earl  regarded  his  youthful  companion  for  a 
time  in  silence,  seeming  the  while  to  be  debating 
with  himself.  At  length,  with  the  passing  of  a  cloud 
from  his  brow,  he  said  : 

"Maitland,  we  must  engage  in  this  matter  with  a 
thorough  understanding  of  each  other,  and,  should 
you  lend  me  your  aid,  I  should  naturally  depend 
upon  you  to  take  the  lead.  You  know  the  ground ; 
I  do  not.  You  also  know  the  persons,  while  scarcely 
one  of  them  is  known  to  me ;  in  fact,  I  may  say  not 
one,  for  were  Tryon  to  appear  in  a  garb  different 
from  that  in  which  I  saw  him  I  should  not  recog- 
nize him  from  an  utter  stranger." 

"Well,  my  lord,"  said  the  youth  having  waited  a 
time  for  the  other  to  proceed,  "I  think  you  had 
more  in  your  mind  that  you  wished  to  say." 

Allerdale  started  and  changed  color. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "I  will  tell  you.  As  I  have  just 
remarked,  if  you  engage  in  this  work,  I  shall  have  to 
depend  upon  you ;  and,  even  though  I  should  have 
the  assistance  of  the  king's  officers,  I  should  still 
expect  you  to  lead.  And  now,  my  young  friend,  I 
don't  want  you  to  place  yourself  in  an  unpleasant 


154  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

position  for  me.  If  you  would  prefer  not  to  openly 
raise  your  hand  against  these  men,  I  will  certainly 
excuse  you." 

Our  hero  saw  the  drift  of  the  old  man's  thoughts, 
and  he  was  grateful,  though  there  was  a  touch  of 
disappointment  that  he  had  not  been  weighed  more 
correctly. 

Still,  judging  by  the  past — by  his  parentage,  and 
the  associates  of  his  childhood,  he  could  not  deem 
it  strange  that  his  lordship  should  have  held  a  lin- 
gering thought  that  he  might  feel  a  grain  of  sympa- 
thy even  now  for  the  crew  of  the  vessel  which  his 
father  had  so  long  commanded,  and  many  of  whom 
had  been  his  warm  and  loving  friends. 

But  he — the  earl — did  not  quite  understand. 
Percy  answered,  frankly  and  kindly,  and  with  truth 
in  every  word : 

"Lord  Allerdale,  I  thank  you  for  your  kind  con- 
sideration. I  have  to  inform  you,  however,  that 
you  do  not  quite  understand  me.  With  regard  to 
the  sin  of  smuggling  I  will  not  speak,  unless,  indeed, 
I  may  be  permitted  to  say  that  nothing  in  the 
world,  not  even  starvation,  would  induce  me  to  place 
myself  in  the  position  of  an  outlaw. 

"But  there  are  a  certain  number  of  the  old  crew  of 
the  brig — men  who  sailed  with  my  father — who,  as 
I  have  before  remarked,  would  not,  I  am  confident, 
commit  what  they  believed  to  be  a  crime.  In  fact 
they  can  not,  in  the  very  nature  of  the  case,  of  the 
facts  surrounding  them,  look  upon  themselves  as 
great  criminals. 


AN  EXPLORING  EXPEDITION.  155 

"They  know  that  the  great  majority  of  the  poor 
people  are  with  them,  and  at  heart  uphold  them. 
While  they  really  harm  no  private  individual  living 
farther  than  the  competition  in  trade  may  go,  they 
have  the  feeling  that  thousands  of  honest  people 
bless  them. 

"But,  my  lord,  what  shall  I  say  of  the  man  who 
goes  upon  the  high  seas,  a  pirate?  There  is  some- 
thing in  the  word,  in  the  very  thought,  that  strikes  a 
horror  to  my  soul ;  something  that  sets  every  fiber 
of  feeling  within  me  to  crying  out  in  vengeance 
against  them.  Wait  one  week. 

"I  do  not  think  Captain  Tryon  will  return  before 
that  time ;  and  we  must  make  no  move  until  he  is 
on  the  ground.  Should  we  do  so,  he  would  be  sure 
to  take  the  alarm  and  escape  us ;  and  he  can  do  it, 
be  sure.  I  never  knew  a  man — never  heard  of  a 
man — who  had  such  a  capacity  for  secreting  himself. 
Let  him  leave  his  vessel,  with  a  few  hours  the  start, 
and  no  mortal  can  find  him  anywhere.  There  are 
men  on  board  the  brig  who  declare  that  he  vanishes 
into  pure  air.  However,  when  he  is  once  more  on 
the  spot — when  I  know  that  he  has  joined  the  brig — 
there  is  no  doubt  that  we  can  capture  him." 

"You  think  he  will  be  back  in  a  week?" 

"Not  far  from  that.  I  should  say  it  will  not  be 
before  that  time ;  but  if  he  should  return  sooner,  I 
should  know  it,  and  will  at  once  communicate  with 
you." 

"Percy,  I  haven't  told  you  all.  Word  of  this  mat- 
ter—of these  pirates  in  my  neighborhood — has  come 


156  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

to  the  ears  of  the  admiralty,  and  they  have  sent  to 
me,  not  only  for  information,  but  they  wish  to  know 
what  I  can  do  to  help  them.  They  remind  me  that 
I  am  senior  justice  in  this  county,  and  intimate 
pretty  strongly  that  I  am  expected  to  lead  in  the 
work  of  capturing  the  culprits.  They  have  sent  one 
sloop  of  war  to  look  after  the  pirate  and  will  send 
more  if  necessary.  Also,  just  as  soon  as  I  will  in- 
form them  what  I  want  and  when  I  want  it  they  will 
send  a  land  force  to  operate  with  me.  Now,  my 
boy,  what  shall  1  do?  What  answer  shall  I  return 
to  the  admiralty  and  what  to  the  commissioners?" 

"What  do  the  commissioners  say?" 

"They  expect  me  to  call  on  my  chief  constable 
and  his  forces,  and  if  more  help  is  wanted  they  will 
send  it." 

"How  many  men  can  your  constable  raise,  and 
what  sort  of  men  are  they?" 

"Oh,  he  can  raise  all  we  can  possibly  want,  and 
plenty  of  them  are  good  and  reliable." 

"Very  well.  And  now,  my  lord,  I  will  answer 
your  question.  Write  to  the  admiralty  that  they 
need  not  send  any  more  vessels  of  war  after  the 
pirate.  He  will,  in  all  probability,  never  put  to  sea 
again.  Write  to  the  commissioner  of  police  that 
you  will  not  need  their  help  With  regard  to  the 
constable  of  Headlandshire,  let  him  be  prepared ;  but 
be  sure  that  he  makes  no  open  movement  until 
further  orders.  If  you  will  trust  to  my  guidance,  I 
think  you  will  not  be  disappointed." 

"You  will  keep  me  informed — you  will^— " 


AN  EXPLORING  EXPEDITION.  157 

"My  lord,"  said  the  young  man  as  the  earl  hesita- 
ted, "you  need  be  under  no  anxiety.  I  will  keep 
my  eyes  open,  and  you  shall  know  just  what  is  to  be 
done  and  when." 

The  old  nobleman  was  greatly  relieved,  more  so, 
perhaps,  than  he  would  have  acknowledged,  and  his 
thanks  were  warmly  given. 

A  few  more  questions  on  the  subject  of  the  pirate 
chief,  for  such  they  did  not  hesitate  to  call  him, 
were  asked  and  answered,  after  which  Cordelia,  who 
had  been  an  interested  listener — particularly  inter- 
ested,  because  she  saw  her  noble  guardian  deferring 
most  respectfully  to  her  dear  lover — claimed  to  be 
heard.  She  was  eager  to  know  when  they  would 
visit  the  old  chapel. 

"If  you  refer  it  to  me  for  decision,"  said  Percy,  as 
he  found  his  host's  gaze  fixed  inquiringly  upon  him, 
"I  say  the  sooner  the  better.  I  wish  there  could 
have  been  time  this  afternoon,  but  to-morrow  will 
answer.  The  goods  that  are  now  being  removed 
from  the  brig  are  going  back  into  the  country. 
They  are  proper  contraband  articles,  and  were 
purchased  in  France  and  Spain  and  at  the  Azores, 
without  the  help,  I  believe,  of  Captain  Tryon.  The 
last  of  those  goods  will  probably  be  out  to-morrow, 
or  on  the  day  following,  and  after  that  they  will  be 
moving  things  into  the  cavern.  So  you  understand 
why  we  need  to  be  expeditious." 

"Suppose,  then,  we  call  it  to-morrow  morning?" 
suggested  the  earl. 

And  so  it  was  arranged.     Percy  promised  that  he 


158  THE  SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

would  be  on  hand  at  an  early  hour;  and  he  sug- 
gested that  not  a  word  should  be  spoken  on  the 
subject  to  others. 

"Only  to  Mary,"  said  our  heroine,  earnestly.  "I 
will  be  responsible  for  her  circumspection." 

"Certainly,"  returned  Percy.  "You  shall  not  go 
without  your  trusty  attendant.  But  you  will  cau- 
tion her  in  advance." 

The  girl  promised  that  she  would  exercise  all  pos- 
sible caution,  and  shortly  thereafter  the  young  man 
took  his  leave. 

The  morning  of  the  following  day  dawned  clear 
and  bright,  and  by  the  time  the  sun  was  two  hours 
high  the  party  was  ready  for  the  excursion  to  the 
old  chapel. 

By  previous  arrangement  Percy  had  brought  his 
old  fowling-piece  with  him;  and  the  earl  likewise 
took  one,  thus  giving  to  the  inquiring  servants  the 
impression  that  they  were  going  out  simply  for 
shooting. 

Cordelia  often  accompanied  her  old  guardian  on 
his  woodland  rambles,  gun  or  no  gun ;  and  more 
than  once  Percy  Maitland  had  been  called  to  go 
with  them ;  so  the  arrangement  of  the  party  caused 
no  surprise. 

On  referring  to  his  watch,  when  they  had  reached 
their  destination,  the  guide  found  it  to  be  only  a 
few  minutes  past  eight  o'clock.  They  were  in  good 
season,  and  he  felt  very  confident  that  they  had 
nothing  to  fear  from  other  parties  in  the  cavern. 

Cordelia  was  in  a  flutter  of  excitement  as  they 


AN  EXPLORING  EXPEDITION.  159 

approached  the  altar.     Percy   first   pointed    out  to 
them  the  peculiarities  of  the  huge  stone. 

He  found  his  wooden  probe  which  he  had  fash- 
ioned on  the  previous  day,  and  with  the  aid  of  that 
he  very  soon  explained  the  various  points,  the  dis- 
covery of  which  had  led  him  to  the  grand  discov- 
ery of  all. 

This  done,  he  went  to  the  right-hand  end  of  the 
block,  and  laid  his  two  strong  hands  fairly  on  its 
upper  edge. 

"Now,  my  lady,"  he  said,  with  a  happy  smile,  "if 
you  will  keep  your  eyes  open  you  will  behold  a  won- 
derful thing." 

A  weaker  man  than  he  could  have  set  the  rock  in 
motion.  He  put  forth  his  strength  gradually,  for 
the  purpose  of  testing  the  matter,  and  he  had  ex- 
erted not  more  than  a  moiety  of  it  when  he  felt  the 
ponderous  mass  give,  and  heard  the  sharp  click  of 
the  spring  beneath. 

A  moment  later  the  end  of  the  stone  where  they 
stood  began  to  move — to  swing  outward,  away  from 
the  wall — and  in  a  few  seconds  the  aperture  under- 
neath was  exposed  to  view. 

Never  mind  the  loud  astonishment  of  the  lady, 
nor  the  more  quiet  surprise  of  the  maid.  The  earl 
himself  was  filled  with  wonderment,  and  did  not 
hesitate  to  acknowledge  it.  .The  whole  thing  was  a 
wonder,  not  only  the  finding  of  the  subterranean 
chamber  and  the  marvelous  mechanism  by  which 
the  altar  was  controlled,  but  the  very  existence  of 
the  place. 


160  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

"Evidently,"  he  said,  when  Percy  had  asked  him  his 
opinion  of  the  origin  of  the  crypt,  and  its  secret 
mode  of  entrance,  "it  was  constructed  by  the  monks 
a  great  many  years  ago.  We  have  a  record  of  a  fra- 
ternity of  Franciscans  here,  with  a  monastery  some- 
where near  the  site  now  occupied  by  the  castle, 
probably  on  that  self-same  spot,  as  many  of  the  foun- 
dation stones  of  the  present  structure  show  unmis- 
takable signs  of  having  been  used  before. 

"For  instance,  there  is  a  stone  near  the  southeast- 
ern corner  of  the  old  keep,  close  down  by  the  sward, 
which  we  know  must  once  have  served  as  the  key- 
stone of  a  strong,  massive  arch.  And  there  are 
others  near  it,  which  came  from  the  same  arch. 
However,  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  this  chapel. 
My  opinion  is  this:  At  the  time  when  those 
old  monks  lived  here  there  were  frequent  incursions 
on  the  coast  from  piratical  hordes,  and  those  pirates 
were  in  the  habit  of  making  churches  and  monkish 
establishments  their  especial  game.  We  may  sup- 
pose that  the  friars  first  found  this  cave ;  also  its 
connection  with  other  caves,  at  a  distance,  towards 
the  sea.  How  natural  that  it  should  occur  to  them 
what  a  capital  means  of  escape  all  this  would  be  if 
they  only  had  a  way  of  entering  the  cave  secretly — 
unseen  by  their  enemies  the  pirates.  And  then, 
you  see,  as  a  natural  sequence,  came  the  chapel 
with  its  wonderfully  constructed  altar.  Of  course, 
it's  only  supposition ;  but  it  will  answer  till  we 
can  find  a  better  solution." 

"Which,  I  think,"  said  the  young  man  frankly  and 


AN  EXPLORING  EXPEDITION.  161 

honestly,  "would  be  difficult  to  find.  In  fact,  your 
solution  appears  not  only  plausible,  and  entirely 
reasonable,  but,  come  to  think  the  matter  all  over, 
I  can  find  no  room  for  any  other.  We  may  sup- 
pose, of  course,  that  the  machinery  beneath  for 
working  the  ponderous  trap  has  been  renewed.  But 
anybody  with  mechanical  skill  might  have  done 
that." 

After  that  they  prepared  to  go  down.  The  earl 
and  the  guide  had  each  a  brace  of  good  pistols,  and 
each  a  sword.  Also,  they  had  brought  with  them 
two  good  lanterns  which  could  be  utterly  darkened 
should  occasion  require.  Percy  produced  flint  and 
steel,  by  means  of  which  he  set  on  fire  a  piece  of 
punk  wood,  then  lighted  a  brimstone  match,  and 
very  shortly  the  lanterns  were  alight. 

The  muskets  and  the  basket  of  provisions  they 
ventured  to  leave  behind,  on  top  of  the  altar,  and 
presently  Percy  put  his  foot  upon  the  ladder  and 
went  down.  Cordelia  followed  next,  then  came  the 
earl,  with  Mary  Seymour  bringing  up  the  rear. 

We  can  imagine  the  wonder  of  the  girls  and  their 
various  exclamations;  but  their  interest  was  not 
greater  than  was  that  of  the  earl.  And  even  the 
guide  himself  found  more  to  interest  him  than  he 
had  found  before. 

He  had  light  now  to  help  him,  and  the  whole 
scene  was  open  to  his  view.  He  could  now  see  that 
the  cavern  was  entirely  the  work  of  nature.  If  the 
hand  of  man  had  done  anything  it  had  been  only 
the  breaking  off  of  a  few  jagged  points  and  projec- 


1 62  THE  SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

tions  from  the  walls,  with  an  occasional  leveling  of 
the  floor. 

They  went  on  a  considerable  distance  beyond 
where  the  guide  had  gone  on  the  previous  day.  He 
had  stopped  where  the  cave  had  narrowed  down  to 
a  simple  passage  not  more  than  four  or  five  feet 
wide. 

And  here  they  felt  the  fresh  air  from  the  sea — 
quite  a  strong  draught  of  it.  This  passage  ex- 
tended, perhaps,  a  distance  of  a  hundred  yards,  at 
which  point  it  widened  into  another  chamber,  very 
nearly  as  large  as  the  first;  and  here  were  found 
more  articles  of  merchandise — a  considerable  bulk 
of  it — a  portion  of  which  was  comparatively  new. 

This  second  chamber  was,  in  its  widest  part,  eight 
to  nine  yards  across,  by  full  thirty  long;  its  roof 
near  the  center  being  very  high — full  fifty  feet — as 
nearly  as  they  could  estimate. 

At  the  far  end  it  narrowed  again  to  a  passage  not 
more  than  four  feet  wide,  the  sides  rough  and 
broken,  with  many  places  where  it  could  be  seen 
that  serious  impediments  had  been  removed  by  the 
setting  maul  and  chisel.  And  here  it  was  found 
that  the  way  began  to  descend  very  perceptibly. 

"About  where  are  we  now?"  the  earl  asked,  as 
they  reached  the  passage. 

"We  must  be  very  nearly  beneath  the  point  where 
the  abrupt  portion  of  the  crag — the  proper  Witch's 
Head — terminates,  and  the  more  gradual  slope 
begins.  We  have  come  a  considerable  distance. 
Will  you  go  further?" 


AN  EXPLORING  EXPEDITION.  163 

"Let  us  see  where  this  narrow  pass  will  lead  us." 

They  went  on,  Cordelia  resting  her  hand  in  her 
lover's  warm  grasp  when  she  could ;  the  way  de- 
scending quite  abruptly,  for  the  distance  of  a  hun- 
dred yards,  or  more,  when  they  came  to  a  point 
where  the  way  widened  again,  and  the  floor  became 
level ;  but  it  was  not  a  proper  chamber. 

It  continued  thus,  widening  gradually,  for  the  dis- 
tance of  ten  yards,  or  thereabouts,  when  it  came  to 
a  sudden  termination  against  a  seemingly  solid 
wall. 

Above,  at  the  height  of  thirty  or  forty  feet,  there 
was  a  broad  opening,  through  which  the  sea  breeze 
came  freely,  but  it  was  entirely  beyond  reach  from 
where  they  stood,  and,  of  course,  could  never  be  used 
as  a  pass  by  the  smugglers. 

At  length,  however,  Percy  discovered  a  small 
aperture  through  which  he  was  able  to  look  upon 
what  lay  beyond ;  and  the  moment  he  saw  he  knew 
where  they  were.  Directly  before  them,  only  shut 
away  by  a  partition  wall,  was  a  cave  which  he  had 
visited  hundreds  of  times.  It  was  not  far  from  half 
way  down  the  foot-slope  of  the  crag. 

Of  course  there  was  somewhere — and  they  could 
probably  find  it  if  they  tried — a  means  of  passage 
through  this  wall ;  but  would  it  pay  to  attempt  to 
discover  it  at  the  present  time? 

"Will  it  pay  to  run  the  risk  of  detection?"  was 
our  hero's  chief  thought. 

And  the  earl  thought,  decidedly  not.  So,  after 
a  brief  conference,  they  turned  about  and  began  to 


1 64  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

retrace  their  steps,  well  satisfied  with  the  result  of 
their  exploration. 

Happy  was  our  hero  on  the  way  back,  as  he 
walked  with  his  darling's  hand  clasped  in  his  own! 
And  happy  was  Cordelia,  trusting  with  all  her  heart 
in  the  strength  and  goodness  of  her  dear  lover! 

Ah!  little  dreamed  they  of  the  darkness  coming! 
Not  a  thought — not  the  faintest  suspicion — came  to 
them  of  the  vengeful  enemy  that  lurked  in  their  path ! 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

A  STARTLING   REVELATION. 

OUR  explorers  made  but  one  stop  on  the  way 
back,  and  that  was  at  the  old  wine  cask.  Percy 
rinsed  the  silver  cup,  and  having  refilled  it  he 
handed  it  to  the  earl  to  taste.  The  old  man  tasted. 
He  tasted  again,  and  again,  and  finally  drank  it  to 
the  last  drop. 

"I  declare,"  said  he,  with  deep  earnestness  in  look 
and  tone,  "if  we  ever  perform  the  work  of  clearing 
out  this  place  I  must  secure  that  cask.  It  is  by 
far  the  finest  port  I  ever  drank." 

Percy  drank  half  a  cup  full,  after  having  offered  it 
to  Cordelia  and  Mary,  who  had  only  touched  their 
lips  to  it.  It  was  too  strong  for  them. 

They  then  passed  on  and  ascended  the  ladder, 
finding  everything  in  the  old  chapel  as  they  had  left 
it.  Not  even  a  mouse  had  found  their  basket,  nor 
had  any  thief  laid  hands  upon  the  muskets. 


A   STARTLING  REVELATION.  165 

The  others  watched  the  movements  of  their  guide 
while  he  closed  up  the  secret  opening  in  the  pave- 
ment, and  when  it  had  been  done  and  they  had  told 
once  more  how  wonderful  it  all  was,  they  turned 
their  attention  to  lunch,  for  the  walk  had  given 
them  an  appetite. 

Not  far  from  the  chapel  was  a  spring  of  pure  ice- 
cold  water  in  a  little  rocky  dell,  and  to  that  our  hero 
led  the  way.  It  was  a  romantic  spot ;  and  there 
they  sat,  and  spread  their  banquet. 

It  was  near  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  when 
they  arrived  at  the  castle  on  their  return.  The  old 
steward  was  somewhat  disappointed  upon  finding 
that  no  game  had  been  brought  home,  but  he  said  he 
had  expected  nothing  better  when  he  had  seen  the 
women  folks  mixing  up  with  the  sport. 

Cordelia  heard  him,  and  boxed  his  ear,  which 
event  pleased  him  far  more  than  the  lack  of  game 
had  distressed  him. 

Percy  went  in  and  spent  an  hour  with  the  earl  in 
conversation  on  the  subject  of  their  late  excursion 
and  matters  connected  with  it.  Before  closing  refer- 
ence was  again  made  to  the  pirate  chief. 

The  youth  promised  that  he  would  keep  track  of 
him  as  soon  as  he  should  once  more  show  himself  at 
Allerdale. 

"Be  sure  of  one  thing,"  he  said.  "The  brig  can 
not  leave  the  cove  without  my  knowing  it ;  and  she 
will  not  leave  until  Ralph  Tryon  has  rejoined  her. 
I  say  to  you  again — borrow  no  trouble.  Do  not 
be  uneasy.  My  word  for  it,  you  shall  yet  make  a 


166  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

full  and  favorable  report  to  the  authorities  in 
London." 

"That's  the  most  I  care  for,  Percy.  I  will  leave  it 
in  your  hands." 

"Do  so,  my  lord ;  and  sleep  soundly  the  while. 
Remember,  it  may  be  a  week  before  we  can  make  a 
decisive  movement." 

"All  right.  Let  it  be  when  it  will,  so  that  we  find 
success  at  the  end." 

And  with  this  the  visitor  took  his  leave.  Cordelia 
met  him  in  the  outer  hall.  She  had  not  been  pres- 
ent at  the  interview  just  closed ;  but  she  could  not 
let  him  go  without  seeing,  and  speaking  with  him 
before  he  went.  She  wanted  to  thank  him  for  the 
pleasure  he  had  afforded  her;  she  wanted  to  bless 
him,  and  she  wanted  to  kiss  him. 

"Oh,  my  dear  love!"  she  murmured,  with  her 
hands  on  his  shoulders,  and  her  eyes  gazing  up  into 
his  own.  "I  can  not  tell  you  how  happy  I  am. 
Will  anything  ever  come  to  mar  the  perfect  bliss?" 

"Let  us  hope  not,  my  darling.  My  trust  is  in 
heaven,  and  in  your  truth.  I  do  not  think  either 
can  fail  me.  We  can  love  while  we  live ;  but,  ah, 
there  is  after  all  a  power  between  us  which  we  may 
not  surmount." 

"You  mean — the  earl?" 

"Yes. 

"Let  us  not  think  of  him  at  present.  Wait, 
Percy,  until  this  business  of  the  pirates  is  settled. 
Do  you  know,  my  dear,  I  have  thought  it  possible 
that  you  might  come  forth  from  that  affair  with  a 


A   STARTLING  REVELATION.  167 

standing  and  reputation  that  will  cause  my  dear  old 
guardian  to  regard  you  in  a  different  light  from 
what  he  does  now?  Even  now  he  respects  and 
esteems  you.  Think  how  he  has  been  to-day. 
Really  and  truly  I  had  not  expected  him  to  be 
quite  so  free  and  affable,  but  certainly  I  never  saw 
him  more  so.  Wait,  my  precious.  Don't  fail  the 
earl  in  the  matter  of  the  pirate  chief.  Who  shall 
say  what  may  happen  after  that?" 

Ah,  if  they  could  have  known  what  was  to  hap- 
pen !  Perhaps  it  was  well  they  did  not. 

Percy  thought  he  could  understand  his  darling's 
feelings — her  hopes  and  aspirations.  She  fancied,  in 
her  goodness  of  heart,  and  in  her  love  for  him,  that 
he  would  come  forth  from  the  crusade  against  the 
pirates  with  a  hero's  crown,  and  that  the  world 
would  respect  and  esteem  him  as  such. 

He  would  not  destroy  her  castle.  He  promised 
her  that  he  would  do  the  very  best  he  could — would 
do  all  that  lay  in  his  power — towards  helping  the 
earl  and  punishing  the  outlaws. 

Then  he  kissed  her  once  more,  and  shortly  there- 
after took  his  way  homeward. 

Home!  He  shuddered  when  he  thought  of  it. 
There  was  something  in  the  memory  he  held  of  his 
father  that  was  sacred — something  that  imparted  to 
the  old  stone  cottage  a  faint  shadow  of  homeness,  but 
not  another  thing — not  another  memory  of  his  life 
endeared  the  place  to  him,  or  gave  him  yearnings 
for  it. 

And  since  he  had  discovered  Cordelia's  love  the 


168  THE  SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

place  seemed  less  like  home  than  ever  before.  He 
felt  that  it  was  no  place  for  him.  How  long  could 
it  be  before  they — the  smugglers — would  suspect 
that  he  was  at  heart  against  them?  And  they 
would  tell  his  mother.  And — what  would  she  do? 
Oh,  he  would  have  given  much  to  know  the  wom- 
an's real  feelings.  Was  she  friendly  to  Ralph 
Tryon's  wicked  course;  or,  was  she  not?  He  feared 
that  she  sustained  the  man. 

However,  he  would  not  remain  much  longer  a 
dweller  in  the  stone  cottage.  For  three  months, 
and  little  more,  he  had  been  free  from  the  promise 
given  to  his  dying  father,  and  there  was  nothing  to 
keep  him.  He  had  remained  thus  far  because  his 
mother  had  appeared  to  expect  it,  and  because  he 
would  not  leave  her  entirely  alone. 

The  sun  had  set  when  he  left  the  castle,  and  by 
the  time  he  had  reached  the  edge  of  the  woods 
flanking  the  cove,  and  within  which  stood  the  cot- 
tage, it  had  grown  quite  duskish.  So  nearly  dark 
was  it,  that  when  he  had  entered  the  wood  it 
seemed  really  like  night. 

The  fancy  struck  him  as  he  took  the  first  step  into 
the  woodland  path,  that  he  saw  a  moving  figure, 
not  unlike  that  of  a  man,  a  short  distance  away  on 
his  right  hand.  His  thought  for  the  moment  was 
to  stop  and  speak,  but  he  heard  nothing ;  and  as  the 
thing,  whatever  it  was,  had  disappeared,  he  kept  on. 

He  had  not  gone  a  great  way — perhaps  half  the 
distance  through  the  wood — when  his  attention  was 
called  to  the  pattering  of  feet  behind  him.  He  bent 


A    STARTLING  REVELATION.  169 

his  ear  and  listened,  and  presently  he  stopped  and 
turned. 

"Ah,  Guy!    Is  it  you?" 

"Yes,  sir.     I've  been  waitin'  for  ye  a  long  time." 

It  was  a  boy — a  bright-faced,  bright-eyed,  hand- 
some youngster  of  fourteen,  named  Guy  Carrol.  He 
was  son  of  a  sister  of  old  Donald  Rodney,  and  for 
four  years  almost,  he  had  been  the  old  smuggler's 
protigt. 

His  mother,  whom  Donald  had  loved  warmly,  had 
been  first  widowed,  and  then,  when  her  boy  had 
reached  the  age  of  ten  years,  she  had  died;  and, 
dying,  she  had  given  the  boy  to  her  brother,  and  he 
had  promised  that  he  would  care  for  him  as  though 
he  had  been  his  own. 

For  three  years  the  old  uncle  had  sent  the  lad  to 
school,  and  then,  when  the  little  fellow  had  teased, 
and  coaxed,  and  begged,  and  fairly  prayed,  Rodney 
had  yielded,  and  taken  him  to  sea  with  him.  But 
he  would  not  have  done  it  if  he  could  have  looked 
ahead  and  seen  just  what  the  voyage  was  to  be. 

The  heart  of  the  orphan  boy  had  turned  towards 
our  hero  the  first  time  he  had  ever  seen  him. 

Percy  had  gone  on  board  the  brig  about  a  year 
before,  and  met  the  little  fellow  in  the  gangway,  and 
something  in  the  handsome  boyish  face  and  in  the 
great  bright,  honest  eyes,  had  at  once  appealed  to 
his  deepest  heart,  and  he  had  laid  his  hand  on  the 
boy's  head  and  blessed  him,  and  spoke  cheerily  and 
encouragingly  to  him ;  had  hoped  he  would  love  his 
old  uncle  and  grow  up  to  be  a  good  man  and  true. 


*7°  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

It  was  not  much  to  do,  but  it  proved  the  turning 
point  in  the  boy's  life;  and  from  that  time  he  had 
worshiped  Percy  Maitland. 

"Well,  here  I  am,  at  length.  What  can  I  do  for 
you  ?" 

"It  isn't  for  me,  sir.  It  is  for  yourself.  Uncle 
Donald  bade  me  come  out  and  speak  with  ye.  Wait 
a  bit.  S'pose  we  go  on  a  little.  There's  a  place 
close  by  where  there's  more  room." 

"Room,  my  boy !  What  in  the  world — " 

"Sh !  Speak  low,  sir !  We  don't  know  whose  ears 
may  be  near  us.  Where  there's  more  room  we'd  be 
more  likely  to  see  'em." 

Percy  was  becoming  interested.  At  a  short  dis- 
tance they  came  to  a  sort  of  clearing,  where  there 
had  once  been,  so  tradition  said,  a  log  hut ;  and  here 
they  stopped.  The  boy  cast  a  quick,  sweeping 
glance  around,  and  then  spoke. 

"Mr.  Maitland,  Uncle  Rodney  bade  me  tell  you 
there  is  danger,  and  you  must  look  sharp.  Cap'n 
Tryon  has  been  to  your  mother's — " 

"Captain  Tryon !     Is  he  here?" 

"Yes,  sir.  He  came  some  time  in  the  night,  and 
he's  in  a  terrible  way." 

"But  what  has  he  come  for?  What  has  happened 
to  upset  him?" 

"Why,  sir — as  Uncle  Donald  told  it  to  me — some- 
where on  the  road,  between  this  and  Burton,  some- 
body saw  him  that  knew  him.  He  was  on  the  out- 
side of  the  stage-coach  with  the  driver,  and  it  was  the 
driver  that  told  him  how  the  man  had  looked  at  him. 


A    STARTLTNG  REVELATION.  171 

"Well,  sir,  the  next  time  the  coach  stopped  with 
the  mail,  up  comes  three  officers  and  tells  the  cap'n 
he's  their  prisoner.  P'rhaps  you  can  guess  how 
he  took  it.  They  must  have  had  a  pretty  sharp 
time  of  it  for  a  little  while. 

"Cap'n  Tryon's  got  two  bullets  in  him — one  in  his 
arm  and  the  other  in  his  shoulder,  but  he  give  'em  the 
slip.  He  says  he  left  two  of  'em  on  the  ground,  but 
he  didn't  know  whether  they  were  dead  or  not. 
Mercy !  how  he  did  swear !  I  heard  him  while  he 
was  on  board  the  brig." 

"But  what  has  this  to  do  with  me,  Guy?" 

"Ah,  that's  just  it,  sir !  He — that's  the  cap'n — 
swears  'at  you've  been  and  blowed  on  him ;  and  on 
the  rest  of  us.  Of  course,  Uncle  Donald  knew  bet- 
ter, and  so  did  I ;  but  what's  the  use  of  our  saying 
anything  against  him?  He  swears  'at  you've 
blowed,  and  now  he's  goin'  to  have  vengeance." 

The  boy  paused  at  this  point,  and  looked  up  into 
Percy's  face,  as  though  waiting  for  a  reply.  Evi- 
dently, he  expected  a  disclaimer.  At  all  events,  the 
young  man  knew  that  it  would  greatly  please  him 
to  receive  one,  and  he  gave  it  at  once,  and  emphat- 
ically. 

"Guy — Ralph  Tryon  lies  if  he  says  so!  and  I 
believe  he  knows  he  lies !  Now,  tell  me,  what  does 
he  propose  to  do?" 

"That's  what  we  don't  know,  sir;  but  Uncle  Don. 
aid  says  you  must  keep  an  eye  on  your  mother.  It's 
a  hard  thing  to  say— dreadful  hard  to  tell  a  man  to 
beware  of  his  own  mother — but  so  it  is.  It's  to  her 


172  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

the  cap'n  has  been ;  and  uncle  overheard  enough 
between  'em  to  be  very  sure  'at  mischief  is  meant  to 
yourself,  sir!" 

"How  did  your  uncle  happen  to  overhear  this? 
Where  did  it  happen?" 

"At  the  cottage,  sir,  to-day.  The  cap'n  came 
aboard  the  brig  about  midnight — the  last  that  ever 
was.  The  lookout  heard  him  call  for  a  boat,  and 
uncle  went  off  and  got  him.  This  forenoon  he  went 
ashore,  and  Uncle  Donald  with  him ;  and  they  went 
up  to  the  cottage ;  and  while  the  cap'n  was  tellin' 
his  story  to  Mistress  Margery,  Donald  went  out ; 
and  they  must  have  thought  he'd  gone  further  away. 
I  s'pose,  if  the  truth  was  told,  he  was  list'nin'.  I 
wish  you  could  see  the  old  man ;  but  he  can't  leave 
the  brig;  and  he  says  it  wouldn't  do  for  you  to 
come  there." 

"Can  you  tell  me  anything  that  was  said  ?"  Percy 
asked  eagerly. 

"Only  this,  sir.  Of  course,  my  uncle  didn't  dare 
to  get  too  near.  If  they'd  caught  him,  there's  no 
telling  what  might  have  happened.  He  heard 
Cap'n  Tryon  tell  the  mistress  how  that  you  had  be-, 
trayed  'em — the  whole  lot  of  'em — to  the  sheriff  or 
the  constable.  What  the  mistress  said  he  couldn't 
exactly  hear;  but  he  could  tell  that  she  sided  in 
with  the  cap'n.  After  awhile  the  cap'n  said  some- 
thing about  clappin'  a  stopper  on  ye — on  the  young 
spy  and  informer,  he  called  ye." 

"And  what  said  my  mother  to  that?" 

"That  was  what  Donald  tried  awful  hard  to  find 


A    STARTLING  REVELATION.  173 

out  but  he  couldn't  do  it.  Howsumever,  he's  sure 
she  agreed  to  it.  She  didn't  say  she'd  help,  but  it 
was  understood  that  she  shouldn't  stand  in  the  way 
of  what  the. other  would  do." 

"And  that  is  all  old  Donald  heard?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"He  didn't  learn  or  gain  any  intimation  of 
how  Tryon  intends  to  operate — what  he  means 
to  do?" 

"No,  sir.  Uncle  Donald  says  that's  for  you  to 
find  out.  If  the  cap'n  was  to  be  on  the  ground, 
t'would  be  different.  Then  you'd  keep  an  eye  on 
him ;  but,  seem'  as  he  is  goin'  off  again,  you'll  have 
to  be  more  careful  and  keep  a  sharp  lookout,  fore 
and  aft  and  on  both  sides." 

"Going  away !"  exclaimed  Percy,  with  a  start  of 
disappointment  and  disgust.  "Do  you  mean,  he 
will  leave  Allerdale?" 

"Why,  bless  ye !  he's  gone,  sir.  He  went  early 
this  afternoon.  One  of  the  gunners  drove  him  over 
to  Springvale  in  a  cart  belonging  to  the  host  of  the 
village  inn ;  and  I  understand  he  was  bound  north 
for  Scotland.  Uncle  Donald  said  he  was  cross  and 
ugly,  and  it  was  impossible  to  make  out  exactly 
what  he  meant  to  do.  But  he's  off,  sir,  and  won't 
be  back  for  a  week  or  thereabout,  if  what  he  told  my 
uncle  was  the  truth." 

"You  are  anxious  to  get  back  to  the  brig,  my 
dear  boy?" 

"I'm  rather  anxious  to  be  out  of  this,  sir,"  the  lad 
replied,  promptly  and  frankly.  "I  wouldn't  have 


174  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

one  of  the  cap'n's  men  catch  me  here  with  you  for 
the  world." 

"Ah,  you  recognize  a  line  of  demarcation  in  the 
crew  of  the  brig? — I  mean  you  understand  there  to 
be  two  parties." 

"Yes,  sir,  I  do.  Uncle  Donald  will  never —  But  I 
mustn't  blab." 

"It's  all  right,  Guy.  I  know  all  about  it,  and  from 
your  uncle's  own  lips.  And  now — if  you  have  noth- 
ing more  to  tell  me — you  may  trot  back  as  quickly 
as  you  please ;  and  be  sure  I  shall  not  forget  the 
great  service  you  have  done  me." 

"Oh,  sir,  don't  say  that !  If  you  knew  how 
much  good  it  does  us — Uncle  Donald  and  I — to 
serve  you,  you  wouldn't  think  of  layin'  it  up  as  any- 
thing to  be  remembered." 

"Never  mind  about  that  just  now.  You'll  accept 
my  gratitude ;  and  you'll  convey  the  same  to  your 
uncle,  and  tell  him,  further,  that  Percy  will  be  sure 
to  keep  his  eyes  wide  open." 

Our  hero  stood  and  watched  the  disappearing 
form  of  his  young  friend,  and  when  he  could  no 
longer  hear  the  sound  of  his  footfall  he  turned  once 
more  toward  the  cottage. 

And  he  had  something  now  to  think  about.  He 
was  not  greatly  surprised  that  Ralph  Tryon 
should  seek  his  life.  Knowing  the  character  of 
the  man  for  all  that  was  cruel  and  reckless  and 
wicked,  and  remembering  the  antagonism  that 
had  existed  between  them  from  the  very  first 
of  their  acquaintance,  he  could  find  nothing 


A    STARTLING  REVELATION.  175 

surprising  in  this  desire  for  dire  and  deadly  ven- 
geance. 

What  he  wondered  at  was  that  the  villain  should 
have  applied  to  his  mother.  How  had  he  dared  to 
broach  such  a  subject  to  her? 

Could  there  be  any  mistake?  Had  Donald  Rod- 
ney been  deceived  or  had  he  entirely  misunder- 
stood? In  his  heart  he  was  forced  to  the  confession 
that  he  had  no  respect  for  his  mother,  or  no  respect 
for  her  character,  nor  could  he  esteem  her. 

Oh,  if  his  mother  could  be  but  a  memory,  as  was 
his  father,  how  much  of  misery  might  have  been 
spared  him !  In  the  name  of  mother  there  was 
something  sacred — something  that  quickened  his 
pulses  and  elevated  his  feelings. 

But  in  his  own  case,  when  he  descended  from  the 
empty  name  to  the  living  reality,  the  sacredness  van- 
ished, and  a  sense  of  repulsion  took  the  place  of 
calmer  feeling. 

He  could  not  tell  what  to  think — what  to  fear. 
He  must  wait  and  let  time  determine.  The  thought 
occurred  to  him  of  seeking  rest  at  the  village. 

Why  should  he  sleep  again  beneath  the  old  roof? 
Would  he  not  be  safer  at  the  inn?  Would  not  that 
be  the  best  and  surest  way  of  settling  the  whole 
matter? 

But  it  would  not  answer.  He  could  offer  no  ex- 
cuse without  opening  his  parent's  eyes  to  the  truth — 
to  the  fact  of  his  having  received  warning. 

No,  he  would  go  on,  and  make  the  best  of  it.  He 
was  sustained  by  a  wondrous  sense  of  power. 


176  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

Never  in  his  life  had  he  felt  more  secure  than  at  that 
moment,  and  yet  he  did  not  doubt  that  a  severe 
struggle — a  dark  ordeal — was  before  him. 

Surely,  the  glory  of  Cordelia's  love,  with  all  its 
possibilities  for  future  joy  and  gladness,  had  not 
dawned  upon  him  only  to  be  swallowed  up  in  a  dire 
calamity  at  the  hands  of  a  pirate  chief!  No,  no;  he 
would  not,  he  could  not  believe  it ! 

He  walked  on  and  entered  the  cottage,  turning  at 
once  into  the  comfortably  furnished  living-room  as 
soon  as  he  had  deposited  his  cap  and  light  cloak  in 
the  narrow  hall. 

j  He  found  the  supper-table  set,  and  his  mother  was 
evidently  awaiting  his  coming,  as  he  had  told  her 
that  he  would  be  at  home  to  the  evening  meal. 

The  kettle  was  steaming  on  the  crane;  the  tea- 
pot was  on  the  hob ;  while  a  pan  of  newly  baked 
rolls  was  set  up  against  a  flat-iron  before  the  fire  to 
keep  warm. 

"Am  I  late,  mother?"  the  new-comer  asked 
cheerily. 

"Not  at  all,  Percy.  Supper  is  all  ready:  but  I 
have  not  waited  long.  I  didn't  expect  you  before." 

Never  had  she  spoken  more  pleasantly,  and  never 
had  she  appeared  more  kind.  Once  she  really 
smiled,  though  there  was  but  little  of  warmth  or 
light  in  it. 

If  she  had  looked  him  straight  in  the  face;  if  she 
had  turned  to  him  frankly  and  trustingly — he  would 
certainly  have  cast  old  Donald's  dark  suspicions  to 
the  winds. 


AN  ATTEMPT  AT  MURDER.  177 

But  she  did  not  do  this.  There  was  a  tendency  in 
her  eyes  to  avoid  him.  Even  while  addressing  him, 
she  did  not  look  directly  at  him,  and  if,  by  chance, 
she  caught  his  gaze  fixed  upon  her — if  her  eyes  met 
his  own — she  started  guiltily. 

"I  suppose  you've  been  at  the  castle?"  she  said 
after  she  had  set  the  rolls  and  the  teapot  on  the 
table ;  and  there  was  a  perceptible  touch  of  bitter- 
ness in  her  voice. 

"I  have  been  at  the  castle  during  the  day,  twice," 
Percy  replied,  honestly. 

"Do  you  hear  anything  new  up  there?" 

"Nothing  at  all.  Lord  Oakleigh  has  gone  back  to 
Oxford." 

He  might  have  said  more,  but  at  that  moment 
Margery  turned  quickly  toward  the  buffet  in  a  far 
corner,  as  though  for  something  she  had  forgotten. 

As  his  mother  turned  thus  abruptly  away,  our 
hero's  gaze  wandered  to  the  table,  and  something 
attracted  his  attention  which  he  had  not  before  seen. 

He  saw  it  now,  however,  and  the  sight  gave  him 
a  start  that  sent  a  throb  and  a  chill  through  his 
whole  frame. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

AN  ATTEMPT  AT   MURDER. 

WHAT  Percy  had  discovered  on  the  supper-table, 
standing  near  to  his  own  plate,  was  only  a  wine 
bottle.  But  it  was  a  very  peculiar  bottle — that  is,  in 


1 78  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

his  eyes.  It  might  not  have  been  so  in  the  eyes  of 
another. 

Two  circumstances  in  connection  with  it  came  to 
his  mind ;  first,  he  was  very  sure  there  had  been  no 
such  bottle  as  that  in  the  cottage  when  he  had  left 
it  that  morning.  In  the  very  nature  of  the  home 
arrangement  it  would  have  been  next  to  impossible 
for  a  bottle  of  wine  to  stand  in  the  dwelling  without 
his  knowledge,  and  he  had  no  knowledge  of  that. 

The  next  circumstance  was  startling.  The  bottle 
was  of  an  entirely  new  pattern,  the  glass  of  a  color 
such  as  he  had  never  seen  in  a  bottle  but  once 
before,  and  that  once  before  had  been  in  the  cabin 
of  the  Staghound,  during  his  late  conference  with 
Donald  Rodney! 

It  had  been  exactly  such  a  bottle  that  the  old 
man  had  produced  when  he  had  offered  him  the 
finest  old  wine  that  was  ever  tasted.  How  came  the 
bottle  here?  That  it  had  been  brought  during  the 
day  he  was  confident. 

As  his  mother  had  turned  away  to  the  buffet,  so 
he  now  turned  away  to  a  window,  and  did  not  come 
back  until  he  had  put  away  the  last  outward  sign  of 
his  misgivings. 

"I  don't  suppose  the  old  earl  loves  that  grandson 

of  his   over  and  above  much,  does    he?"  Margery 

.  remarked,  looking  at  her  son  keenly  after  they  had 

taken  their  seats  and  she  had  lifted  the  pot  to  pour 

out  the  tea. 

"I  can  not  presume  to  judge  of  that  matter, 
mother,"  Percy  replied,  in  an  easy,  natural  tone.  "I 


AN  ATTEMPT  AT  MURDER.  179 

know  that  the  young  man  tries  his  grandfather's 
patience  somewhat ;  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  the 
old  man  wishes  he  were  different.  However,  I  know 
but  little  about  him." 

"I  suppose  you  have  spoken  with  the  young 
lord?  " 

"Yes.  I  have  spoken  with  him,  and  that  is  about 
all." 

"It  strikes  me,  Percy,  if  I  was  in  his  place  I  should 
ask  you  to  make  yourself  a  little  less  familiar  at  the 
big  house." 

The  youth  looked  at  his  mother  in  surprise. 
What  was  she  driving  at  ?  Was  she  seeking  to  pry 
into  his  relations  with  Cordelia? 

"Mother,  I  do  not  quite  understand  you.  What 
the  world  should  Lord  Oakleigh  have  to  do  with  my 
familiarity  at  the  castle?" 

"Why,  doesn't  he  intend  to  marry  with  the  Lady 
Cordelia  Chester?" 

For  the  life  of  him  our  hero  could  not  keep  back 
the  start,  nor  the  flush  that  mounted  to  his  brow 
and  temples;  but  not  a  sign  of  the  emotion  ap- 
peared in  his  voice  when  he  spoke. 

"I  know  nothing  of  the  young  lord's  intentions." 

"But,"  pursued  the  woman,  seeming  desirous  of 
gaining  information,  "so  long  and  so  intimate,  as 
you  have  been  at  the  castle,  you  ought  to  know 
what  the  general  idea  is,  what  the  plan  is  in  that 
respect.  How  does  the  old  earl  regard  the  matter? 
Of  course  he  wants  the  girl  to  marry  with  his  own 
son's  son." 


l8o  THE  SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

"Perhaps  he  does." 

"What  do  you  think  about  it?  Do  you  believe  he 
wishes  it?" 

"No,  I  do  not !"  Percy  answered  plumply. 

"Then  you  don't  think  he  would  influence  the  girl 
to  marry  with  Oakleigh?" 

"He  never  will  try  to  influence  her  in  any  way  in 
regard  to  her  marriage.  That  I  know." 

"And  perhaps  you  know  that  the  girl  wouldn't 
have  him  for  a  husband  on  any  consideration?" 

"Yes,"  answered  the  youth,  and,  thus  driven,  he 
answered  somewhat  warmly,  "I  know  just  that !" 

"Poor  young  man!  I've  heard  he  loved  her 
dearly." 

"Then  you've  heard  more  than  ever  I  did ;  for  I  can- 
didly believe  the  man  can  love  no  living  thing  save 
himself ! — There,  mother,  I  think  we  had  better  drop 
this  subject.  The  affairs  of  those  people  can  be 
nothing  to  us,  and  we  will  let  them  rest." 

Percy  saw  the  smile  that  curled  his  mother's  lips, 
and  he  saw  the  sneer ;  but  he  made  no  further  remark, 
nor  did  she,  on  that  subject. 

The  meal  was  drawing  toward  its  close,  and 
Percy  had  not  offered  to  touch  the  wine.  Usually 
he  had  drunk  a  few  swallows  when  commencing  to 
eat.  He  was  watching  his  mother  narrowly. 

He  saw  that  her  eyes  often  rested  upon  the  bottle, 
and  then  turned  toward  himself;  and  more  than 
once  he  was  confident  he  detected  a  cloud  of  anx- 
iety on  her  brow.  Finally  she  spoke. 

"Percy,  won't  you  try  the  wine?" 


AN  A  TTEMP T  AT  MURDER.  1 8 1 

"Certainly.     I'll  drink  with  you,  mother." 

The  thought  had  come  to  him  as  he  had  spoken 
it,  impulsively  and  not  with  premeditation,  but 
the  effect  on  the  woman  was  quick  and  remark- 
able. 

She  gave  a  start  like  one  frightened,  and  she 
looked  into  the  speaker's  face  as  though  she  would 
look  him  through.  Very  soon,  however,  she  over- 
came  the  emotion,  and  said,  with  a  poor  attempt  at 
a  smile : 

"Indeed,  boy,  you  know  I  never  drink  wine  in  the 
evening." 

"And  it  is  seldom  that  I  take  it  with  my  supper," 
the  youth  returned,  pleasantly. 

"But  this  is  very  fine." 

"Ah,"  taking  up  the  bottle  and  holding  it  between 
his  eye  and  the  blaze  of  the  nearest  candle,  "where 
did  this  come  from?" 

"From  France,  I  suppose ;  though  it  is  of  Italian 
vintage." 

"I  mean,  how  came  it  here?  How  did  you 
get  it?" 

"It  must  have  come  from  one  of  the  brig's  crew, 
of  course.  Very  likely  old  Rodney  brought  it  up, 
or  it  may  have  been  Stephen  Harley.  I  only  know 
it  is  a  very  fine  old  wine,  the  like  of  which  we  do 
not  often  see." 

Percy  was  strongly  tempted  to  drive  his  mother  to 
the  wall,  then  and  there ;  but  second  thoughts  told 
him  to  hold  his  peace.  If  there  should  be  any  col- 
lusion between  her  and  Ralph  Tryon,  he  must  know 


1 82  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

it ;  and  to  betray  himself  now  would  defeat  his  end 
and  serve  no  good  purpose. 

First,  if  possible,  he  would  discover  if  the  wine 
which  had  been  thus  pressed  upon  him  had  been 
tampered  with.  He  was  very  sure  it  had.  Tryon 
himself  had  brought  that  wine  to  the  cottage — had 
brought  it  with  an  object ;  and  that  object  was 
his  own — Percy's  death ! 

Good  heavens !  could  his  mother  be  knowingly 
concerned  in  this?  He  did  not  wish  to  believe  it. 
Yet,  if  he  should  find  the  wine  poisoned,  how 
could  he  doubt  it? 

Ha !  A  happy  thought  occurred  to  him.  On  the 
premises  was  a  cat — it  had  been  a  little  kitten  when 
Hugh  Maitland  died — which  the  smugglers,  when  on 
shore  and  stopping  at  the  cottage,  had  taught  to  lick 
up  wine  as  it  did  milk,  and  more  than  once  had  poor 
puss  been  reduced  to  a  state  of  utter  inebriety  in 
furnishing  sport  for  the  seamen. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I  will  do,  mother,"  said  our 
hero,  after  a  little  thought.  "Sometimes  I  am 
thirsty  in  the  night.  Suppose  I  take  the  bottle  up 
to  my  chamber." 

"Do  so,"  responded  Margery,  quickly.  "And  let 
me  once  more  assure  you,  you'll  find  it  about  the 
finest  wine  you  ever  tasted.  At  all  events,  I  found 
it  so.  You  will  see  a  part  of  it  has  been  consumed." 

That  was  true,  but  it  proved  nothing.  The  young 
man,  when  he  had  arisen  from  the  table,  took  the 
bottle  and  carried  it  up  to  his  room,  together  with  a 
goblet. 


AN  ATTEMPT  AT  MURDER,  183 

Later  he  came  down  and  took  a  look  out  of  doors. 
There  was  a  small  shed  in  the  rear  of  the  cottage, 
with  a  cowhouse  and  sheepfold  close  by. 

In  this  shed  he  found  the  cat,  which  he  took  in 
his  arms,  and  carried  to  the  front  door  of  the  dwell- 
ing; and,  as  good  fortune  would  have  it,  as  he 
passed  the  windows  of  the  sitting-room  he  saw  his 
mother  on  her  way  to  the  kitchen,  with  the  last  of 
the  supper  dishes  in  her  hands. 

To  glide  up  to  his  own  room,  unseen,  with  the  cat 
in  his  arms,  was  now  easy ;  and  it  was  accomplished 
without  mishap.  In  his  chamber,  he  put  the  cat 
on  the  floor,  then  gently  turned  the  key  in  the  lock 
of  his  door,  and  then  reflected. 

He  hesitated.  If  his  mother  had  done  this  thing, 
did  he  wish  to  know  it?  The  query  was  very  soon 
answered.  His  own  safety — his  life  perhaps,  de- 
manded it. 

And  even  then  he  held  back.  The  thought  of 
sacrificing  the  poor  cat  was  really  painful  to  him. 
He  looked  upon  it — so  trustful  and  so  contented 
in  his  company,  so  full  of  life  and  sport,  the  puss  he 
had  played  with  and  fondled  and  fed  for  so  long  a 
time — for  years.  Could  he  kill  it?  He  hoped  he 
would  not.  Perhaps,  after  all,  the  wine  was  as  inno- 
cent as  the  dew  of  heaven. 

He  had  in  his  room  a  cup  and  saucer.  The  sau- 
cer he  took,  and  into  it  poured  a  little  of  the  wine. 
He  touched  his  tongue  to  it,  but  could  perceive  no 
unpleasant  taste — Ah ! — Wait ! — By  and  by  he  was 
sensible  of  a  puckering  effect,  together  with  a  slight 


1 84  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

prickling,  which  he  had  not  experienced  at  first.  In 
fact,  he  was  very  sure  that  he  might  have  drunk  a 
full  goblet  of  it  without  tasting  the  false  tang. 

However,  he  placed  the  saucer  on  the  floor,  and 
the  cat  came  to  it  at  once  and  began  to  lap  it  up.  It 
lapped  up  not  quite  half  of  it,  and  stopped.  Pres- 
ently it  lapped  a  little  more;  then  stopped  again 
and  went  away  and  lay  down. 

Had  puss  drunk  enough,  or  was  the  taste  of  the 
beverage  unpleasant?  After  a  time  Percy  took  the 
saucer  and  set  it  down  close  to  the  cat's  nose,  but 
she  would  not  touch  it.  When  he  found  that  pussy 
could  not  be  persuaded  to  drink  any  more  he  took 
up  the  vessel,  and,  by  the  exercise  of  a  little  care, 
succeeded  in  pouring  the  wine  that  remained  in  it 
back  into  the  bottle. 

He  had  done  this  and  was  in  the  act  of  setting 
the  bottle  away  on  the  mantel,  when  a  low,  painful 
wail  from  the  cat  attracted  his  attention,  and  on 
looking  down  he  saw  the  poor  creature  already  in 
spasms.  But  it  did  not  suffer  long,  for  which  the 
experimenter  was  profoundly  thankful.  Within  a 
minute  from  the  time  of  the  first  symptom  of 
trouble  its  life  was  at  an  end. 

Percy  Maitland  stood  looking  upon  the  dead  cat, 
and  thought.  What  should  he  do?  That  an 
attempt  had  been  made  to  destroy — to  murder 
him — he  simply  knew;  and  he  knew,  too,  that  his 
mother  had  been  knowing  to  it.  Aye,  she  had 
actively  lent  her  hand  to  aid  in  its  accomplishment. 

Why — why — was  Ralph  Tryon   so  bitter  toward 


AN  ATTEMPT  AT  MURDER.  185 

him?  Why  did  he  hate  him  with,  such  deadly 
hatred  ? 

"It  can  not  be  because  he  thinks  I  will  betray 
him,"  the  youth  thought  aloud.  "He  has  hated  me 
from  the  first.  The  first  time  I  ever  set  eyes  on 
him,  when  he  saw  how  I  watched  and  studied  him — 
when  he  saw  perhaps  that  his  appearance  had  puz- 
zled me — even  then  he  hated  me  and  could  have 
killed  me,  I  verily  believe,  with  a  good  relish." 

And  then  he  gave  thought  again  to  his  mother. 
What  should  he  do?  Should  he  let  her  know  of  the 
dreadful  discovery  he  had  made?  He  had  not  the 
heart  to  do  it.  He  knew  not  how  he  should  meet 
her. 

Yet  she  must  know  it,  sooner  or  later.  It  could 
not  be  kept  from  her  a  great  while.  Of  course  he 
must  leave  the  cottage.  It  could  be  no  longer  a 
home  for  him.  Also,  he  must  see  old  Donald,  and 
make  an  arrangement  with  him  for  the  imme- 
diate transmission  of  intelligence  of  the  return  of 
Tryon. 

An  hour  later,  when  he  knew  that  his  mother  had 
retired,  he  removed  his  shoes,  and  noiselessly  car- 
ried the  dead  cat  downstairs  and  out  of  doors, 
throwing  it  down  among  some  bushes,  where  it 
might  appear  that  the  poor  thing  had  there  parted 
with  life. 

Back  in  his  room,  Percy  locked  his  door,  and  set 
a  table  against  it,  and  then  went  to  bed,  and  finally 
to  sleep.  On  the  following  morning  he  was  up 
with  the  sun ;  and  by  the  time  he  had  performed 


1 86  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

his  ablution,  and  completed  his  toilet,  he  had 
resolved  fully  upon  the  course  he  would  pursue. 

He  would  make  no  complaint  to  his  mother;  he 
would,  tell  her  nothing  of  what  he  had  discovered, 
unless  she  should  push  him. 

Yet  he  meant  to  put  the  laboring  oar  into  her 
hand.  She  could  demand  what  of  explanation  she 
pleased. 

He  possessed  but  little  personal  property.  All 
the  furniture  in  the  cottage  was  the  property  of  his 
mother,  though  a  portion  of  it  he  had  purchased. 
He  had  his  clothing,  a  few  valuable  weapons — three 
swords,  half  a  dozen  pistols  of  different  sizes  and 
patterns,  a  fine  rifle,  and  three  fowling-pieces,  or  one 
of  them  was  a  proper  king's-arm  musket. 

This  property  he  collected — not  together,  but  so 
arranged  it  that  it  could  handily  and  quickly  be 
taken  in  hand  and  carried  away.  He  then  went 
below,  with  the  bottle  in  his  hand,  finding  Margery 
just  out  from  her  sleeping-room,  which  was  on  the 
ground  floor. 

He  met  her  eye  as  he  entered  the  living-room, 
and  saw  that  she  was  shaken.  A  tremor  shook  her 
from  head  to  foot.  Her  countenance  was  not  that 
of  a  happy  woman. 

Evidently  she  was  not  proud  of  what  she  had 
done,  nor  quite  satisfied  with  it. 

"Mother,"  he  said,  in  his  usual  pleasant  tone,  but 
with  a  tinge  of  sadness  in  it,  "I  have  brought  back 
the  wine." 

"You — you   did  not  drink  any  of  it?"  she   said 


AN  ATTEMPT  AT  MURDER.  187 

interrogatively,  as  she  took  the  bottle  from  his  hand. 
She  certainly  had  not  looked  to  see  if  any  of  the 
contents  were  gone. 

"No — I  did  not  care  to." 

"You  were  not  afraid  of  it,  I  hope." 

"Not  particularly  afraid  of  it,  because  I  knew  it 
could  not  harm  me  if  I  did  not  taste  it.  We  are  all 
of  us,  more  or  less,  the  creatures  of  our  fancy ;  and 
I  am  willing  to  confess  tc  you  that  I  took  a  very 
strong  fancy  that  it  would  be  best  for  me  not  to 
drink  from  this  bottle." 

"Percy!  What  do  you  mean?  I  hope  you — I 
hope — pshaw!  If  you're  afraid  of  being  poisoned 
here  you'd  better  go  up  to  the  castle  and  make  your 
home  there.  I've  no  doubt  they  would  welcome  you 
with  open  arms.  Oh,  what  a  word  I  could  whisper 
in  that  old — " 

She  stopped  suddenly,  in  full  career,  as  though 
struck  dumb.  She  looked  for  a  moment  longer  into 
the  young  and  handsome  face  before  her;  then 
turned  on  her  heel,  and  went  out  into  the  kitchen, 
taking  the  wine  bottle  with  her. 

Percy  watched  her  until  the  closing  door  behind 
her  had  shut  her  from  his  view;  then  he  put  on  his 
cap ;  buckled  on  his  sword — a  light,  but  valuable 
weapon ;  took  a  light  cloak  over  his  arm,  and  went 
forth,  determined  within  himself  that  he  had  slept 
his  last  sleep,  and  eaten  his  last  meal,  in  the  old  cot- 
tage— the  home  of  his  boyhood — the  only  home  he 
had  ever  known. 

He  took  his  way  directly  toward  the  shore  of  the 


1 88  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

Cove,  determined  to  have  speech  with  old  Donald 
at  all  events. 

And  he  could  not  see  where  would  be  the  danger, 
unless  Tryon  had  succeeded  in  stirring  up  his  imme- 
diate friends  more  bitterly  against  him  than  he  could 
think  possible. 

However  he  was  saved  all  trouble — most  agree- 
ably saved.  Little  more  than  half  the  distance 
through  the  wood  had  he  gone  when  he  met  both 
Donald  Rodney  and  young  Guy  Carroll. 

"Dear  old  man !  I  was  coming  to  see  you.  I 
had  determined  to  brave  the  danger,  if  any  there 
might  be." 

"Mercy  on  us!  I'm  glad  ye  didn't  come,  my  dear 
boy.  The  cap'n's  laid  in  with  a  dozen  or  so  of  his 
own  men,  if  ye  do  come  aboard,  to  play  some  sort  of 
a  rough  trick  on  ye.  I  don't  know  what  it  is,  but  it 
may  cost  ye  yer  life." 

"Donald,  I  don't  see  how  you  can  endure  it." 

"I  aint  agoin'  to  endure  it,  my  boy,  not  a  bit 
longer  than  it  takes  me  to  get  what  belongs  to  me. 
I  don't  forget  that  a  part  of  the  brig  is  my  own 
property.  I'll  get  that,  and  then  I'm  off,  and  this 
blessed  boy  with  me.  And  now,  Percy,  what's  up? 
I  can't  be  here  but  a  few  minutes." 

"Only  this,  Donald :  I  want  you  to  let  me  know 
the  moment  Ralph  Tryon  gets  back.  That's  all. 
Just  give  me  the  intelligence." 

"I'll  do  it,  Percy.     Shall  I  find  ye  at  the  cottage?" 

"No.     At  the  inn — the  Allerdale  Arms." 

"Eh!     Are  ye  goin'  to  cut  yer  cable,  my  boy?" 


AN  ATTEMPT  AT  MURDER.  189 

"For  a  time,  yes.  Ah,  old  friend,  the  warning  you 
sent  me  may  have  saved  my  life.  At  all  events,  I 
shall  so  regard  it." 

"I  knew  there  was  something  in  the  wind,  Percy. 
I'm  blamed  if  I  can  understand  it.  How  she  can  do 
it  is  beyond  me.  But  I  don't  s'pose  you  care  to  talk 
about  it." 

"I  would  rather  not,  Donald.  But  it  is  due  to 
you  that  I  should  tell  you  this :  You  were  not  mis- 
taken. There  was  deadly  mischief  meant  to  me; 
and  the  pair  of  them  were  engaged  in  it.  There ! 
let  it  rest  at  that.  Now,  tell  me,  Guy  said  some- 
thing about  the  captain's  being  set  upon  by  officers 
of  the  constablery.  How  badly  was  he  hurt?" 

"Oh,  not  very  bad.  He  had  a  bullet  through  his 
right  arm,  below,  and  another  higher  up.  It  don't 
prevent  him  from  traveling." 

"Isn't  he  afraid  of  being  again  recognized  by 
officers  of  the  law?" 

"He  don't  appear  to  be.  Howsumever,  that's 
his  lookout.  I  don't  care  how  quick  he  gets  over- 
hauled. He's  a  black-hearted  wretch !" 

"I  agree  with  you,  old  man.  You  don't  know 
when  he  will  return?" 

"I  haven't  the  least  idea  anything  about  it.  I 
don't  know  where  he's  gone,  nor  when  he'll  come 
back." 

After  this  arrangements  were  perfected — made 
sure — for  the  conveying  to  our  hero  of  intelligence 
of  Tryon's  reappearance  at  the  Cove ;  and  then  they 
separated,  Donald  and  his  nephew  returning  to  the 


190  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

landing,  while  Maitland  took  his  way  toward  the 
village,  and  the  inn. 

Martin  Vanyard,  fifty  years  of  age,  fat,  rosy  and 
robust,  loved  the  handsome  son  of  Hugh  Maitland 
almost  as  though  he  had  been  of  his  own  flesh  and 
blood ;  and  he  declared  he'd  heard  nothing  for  years 
that  had  pleased  him  so  much  as  had  Percy's  pro- 
posal to  take  up  his  quarters  beneath  his  roof. 

"Bless  yer  dear  heart !  I'll  make  ye  as  comfortable 
as  a  prince!  Ye'll  come  to-day?" 

"Yes.  We'll  begin  with  this  morning's  break- 
fast." 

Toward  the  middle  of  the  forenoon  Margery 
Maitland  was  considerably  surprised  by  the  appear- 
ance of  a  cart,  drawn  by  a  single  horse,  before  her 
door;  and  a  few  moments  later  Percy  entered  the 
room  where  she  stood. 

"Percy!  What  does  this  mean?"  She  was 
trembling  at  every  joint,  and  her  face  had  turned 
pale. 

"It  means,  mother,"  the  son  promptly  answered, 
"that  I  have  at  length  carried  into  execution  a  plan 
which  I  have  for  several  weeks  contemplated." 

"You're  going  to  leave  me?" 

"Yes.  I  have  engaged  quarters  with  Vanyard  at 
the  village  inn.  I  got  my  breakfast  there." 

"Percy!  You  needn't  tell  me!  This  is  thought 
of  suddenly.  You  didn't  dream  of  it  when  you 
came  home  last  evening.'" 

"Never  mind,  mother.  I  dreamed  of  it  during 
the  night  and  this  morning  resolved  to  act." 


CONSTERNATION  AT   THE   CASTLE.  191 

"Percy !     You — 

He  advanced  and  laid  a  hand  on  her  shoulder,  and 
looked  straight  into  her  shrinking,  cowering  eyes. 

"Margery  Maitland !  if  you  will  leave  the  cause 
between  us  exactly  where  it  is,  I  will  do  the  same. 
If  you  force  me  to  speak  further,  I  shall  speak  that 
which  you  will  not  care  to  hear.  Be  wise  and  let  it 
rest  as  it  is.  Be  sure  of  one  thing,  if  ever  you  suf- 
fer harm  in  life,  if  calamity  of  any  kind  shall  befall 
you,  it  shall  not  be  from  me.  I  can  not  forget  you 
are  my  mother.  Mother!  Mother!  My  last 
word  to  you  shall  be,  from  the  very  depths  of  my 
heart,  God  bless  and  keep  you  now  and  evermore !" 

Half  an  hour  later  the  cart  had  gone,  bearing 
away  Percy  and  all  his  personal  possessions;  and 
Margery  Maitland,  having  gazed  after  it  until  it  had 
gone  from  sight,  for  the  first  time  since  her  husband 
died  sat  down  and  wept  bitter  tears. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

CONSTERNATION      AT      THE      CASTLE— FRIGHT     AT 
THE   LANDING. 

Two  days  passed  after  our  hero's  removal  to  the 
inn,  and  not  a  sign  from  old  Donald.  Percy  had 
visited  the  castle  and  reported  progress  to  the  earl. 
He  told  how  the  pirate  chief  had  been  arrested, 
and  how  he  had  made  his  escape  with  two  bullets 
in  his  arm. 

"He  must  have  had  help,"  said  the  old  nobleman, 


192  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

"or  the  officers  who  took  him  did  not  wish  to  keep 
him.  The  story  sounds  to  me  like  a  fable  of  his 
own  invention.  You  say  he  is  trying  to  make  his 
men  your  enemies?" 

"Yes,  my  lord.  He  is  leaving  no  stone  unturned 
that  can  work  to  my  injury." 

"Then,  depend  upon  it,  the  story  of  the  arrest  is 
all  a  sham,  and  so  are  his  wounds.  I  know  our 
Headlandshire  constables  better  than  that.  But 
wait  till  we  have  him  in  sight." 

"It  can  not  be  long,  my  lord." 

"I  pray  it  may  not  be." 

Late  on  the  evening  of  this  second  day,  so  late 
that  Percy  had  retired  to  his  chamber  at  the  inn  for 
the  night,  as  he  sat  by  his  small  table  reading,  he  was 
disturbed  by  a  rap  on  his  door,  and  upon  bidding 
the  applicant  to  enter,  the  door  was  opened  by  the 
rosy-faced  host,  who  ushered  into  the  room  Donald 
Rodney. 

"My  dear  old  friend  !"  as  soon  as  the  landlord  had 
gone  and  closed  the  door,  "what  now?  You  know  I 
am  glad  to  see  you  under  any  circumstances,  but 
something  unusual  must  have  happened  to  bring  you 
hither  at  such  an  hour." 

"Something  unusual  has  happened,  Percy,  and  I 
thought  you'd  like  to  know.  This  evenin',  along 
about  eight,  or  just  when  it  was  fairly  dark,  a  boat 
from  the  landing  came  alongside  with  Abel  Jack- 
man  in  it.  He,  ye  know,  is  Cap'n  Tryon's  servant. 
He  came  aboard  with  orders  for  three  men — Gurt 
Warnell,  Bryan  Vank,  and  Jack  Dormer — to  come 


CONSTERNATION  AT   THE   CASTLE.  193 

with  him  and  join  the  cap'n  on  shore.  P'raps  ye 
know,  and  p'raps  ye  don't,  them  is  three  of  the  very 
worst — the  bloodiest  villains  of  the  lot.  Well,  they 
went  ashore  with  Jackman,  but  where  they've 
gone  or  what  it  all  means  I've  no  more  idea  than 
the  man  in  the  moon.  All  is,  I  made  an  excuse 
that  I'd  got  business  ashore  that  couldn't  be  put  off, 
and  here  I  am." 

"You  don't  know  whether  Tryon  is  here  in  town 
or  not?" 

"No,  I'm  not  sure  anything  about  it;  but  the 
fancy  kind  o'  strikes  me  that  he  is.  Something  that 
Abel  Jackman  said  give  me  the  idea  that  he  couldn't 
be  a  great  way  off." 

"And  you  know  nothing  more  about  him?" 

"Not  a  thing,  my  dear  boy.  If  anything  comes  to 
my  knowledge,  you  shall  hear  of  it." 

Percy  called  for  a  bowl  of  punch,  which  the  old 
seaman  preferred  to  wine,  and  after  a  social  chat  on 
various  matters,  but  chiefly  on  the  subject  of  the 
pirate  chief,  and  his  possible  intentions  for  the 
future,  the  visitor  took  his  leave. 

Our  hero,  when  left  alone,  paced  to  and  fro  in  his 
chamber,  far  from  satisfied  with  the  appearance 
which  matters  connected  with  Ralph  Tryon  had 
assumed.  He  did  not  like  it  it  all.  Why  had  the 
villain  thus  come  back  under  cover  of  night?  And 
why  had  he  sent  off  his  servant  to  the  brig,  in- 
stead of  going  himself?  And,  further  still,  what 
did  he  want  with  those  three  men?  He  remem- 
bered them  very  well.  They  were  comparatively 


194  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

young  men,  young  in  years,  but  evidently  old  in 
crime. 

They  were  strong,  muscular,  brutish  fellows,  in  all 
probability  from  the  slums  of  the  metropolis. 
These  were  the  men  whom  the  chief  had  called  to 
his  aid.  Once  more,  what  did  he  want  with  them? 

For  a  full  hour  the  young  man  remained  up,  a 
prey  to  various  and  conflicting  emotions,  and  not 
until  he  had  become  too  worn  and  weary  to  think 
further  did  he  seek  his  pillow. 

On  the  morning  of  the  following  day  he  was  up 
with  the  sun,  and  he  asked  of  the  landlord  that  he 
might  have  an  early  breakfast. 

He  had  promised  Cordelia  that  he  would  come  up 
to  the  Castle,  and  go  with  her  to  the  river  if  the  day 
was  fair.  He  had  run  his  best  boat  up  to  the  Park 
landing,  as  it  had  been  their  intention  to  enjoy  a  sail. 
He  feared  now,  however,  that  they  might  have  to 
postpone  it.  The  news  he  had  received  of  the 
presence  in  the  neighborhood  of  Ralph  Tryon  made 
a  difference. 

He  did  not  feel  that  he  ought,  for  any  length 
of  time,  to  be  beyond  easy  reach  of  Donald  Rodney. 
But  he  would  go  to  the  castle,  as  he  had  promised, 
and  explain  the  situation ;  and  he  had  no  doubt  that 
the  proposed  sail  would  be  given  up  cheerfully. 

After  that  he  would  see  the  earl,  and  inform  him 
what  had  happened;  and  then  he  might  return  to 
the  village  and  await  further  intelligence  from  his 
friends  of  the  brig.  About  this,  however,  he  could 
not  decide  until  he  had  seen  Cordelia  and  the  earl. 


CONSTERNATION  AT   THE   CASTLE.  195 

Good  Martin  had  his  young  guest's  breakfast 
ready  for  him  about  as  soon  as  he  was  ready  to  sit 
down ;  and,  as  a  matter  of  sociality,  ate  with  him. 
But  he  found  not  a  very  entertaining  companion. 
There  was  too  much  in  the  youth's  mind — too  much 
that  was  perplexing  and  harrowing — to  admit  the 
introduction  of  new  topics  to  his  thoughts. 

The  old  publican  understood,  and  gave  him  full 
sympathy ;  so  the  meal  passed  off  very  cheerfully 
after  all. 

And  then,  away  for  the  castle.  He  went  on  foot ; 
but  many  horses  would  have  gone  more  slowly.  He 
covered  the  ground  as  does  one  who  walks  for  a 
wager,  or  on  whose  speed  depends  momentous 
results.  In  fact,  he  was  very  anxious;  and  there 
was  no  particular  reason,  known  to  him,  why  he 
should  be. 

He  knew  very  well  that  his  darling  would  not 
complain  at  the  loss  of  her  sail,  when  she  came  to 
know  the  cause  of  its  postponement.  Yet  he  was 
anxious. 

It  was  not  eight  o'clock  when  he  reached  the 
castle.  His  watch  said,  ten  minutes  of  it. 

"Ho,  Master  Percy!  the  young  lady  and  her  maid 
have  been  gone  this  half-hour.  Her  ladyship  said 
we  were  to  tell  you  that  they'd  be  found  at  the 
landing,  where  your  boat  is,  or  so  near  by  that  you 
can't  miss  'em." 

So  said  old  Michael,  the  steward,  who  was  the 
first  person  our  hero  saw  on  his  arrival. 

"You  are  sure  she  said  to  the  landing,  Michael?" 


196  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

"Of  course  I  am.  I  put  up  the  luncheon  for  'em ; 
and  she  told  me  how  she  was  going  when  I  gave  it 
to  Mary." 

"She  knows  which  landing  it  was  that  I  left  my 
boat  at?" 

"She  said  the  Park  landing,  and  there  is  but  one 
that  I  know  of  by  that  name." 

"That  is  so,"  the  young  man  nodded,  and  then, 
without  stopping  for  further  remark,  he  turned 
about  and  started  toward  the  river. 

His  course  was  in  a  northerly  direction,  and  the 
distance  to  the  landing  three-quarters  of  a  mile. 
Not  quite  two-thirds  of  the  way  was  down  the  gen- 
tle slope  of  the  open,  velvety  park,  and  beyond  was 
a  belt  of  woods,  but  entirely  free  from  wildwood  or 
the  tangle  of  underbrush. 

The  trees,  however,  were  of  the  old  forest  growth, 
standing  near  together,  forming  a  solitude  grand 
and  imposing.  The  woods  extended  to  the  river's 
bank,  and  the  path  which  Percy  was  following  led 
directly  to  the  landing. 

He  began  to  look  for  his  darling  and  to  call  her 
by  name  as  soon  as  he  had  entered  the  strip  of  for- 
est, but  he  saw  nothing  nor  did  he  receive  any 
answer. 

Pretty  soon  he  was  at  the  landing — a  platform  of 
chestnut  plank,  built  out  to  deep  water,  so  that  ves- 
sels of  goodly  draught  could  lie  alongside  it. 

His  boat  was  there  as  he  had  left  it,  but  empty. 

He  looked  up  the  bank  and  down,  and  he  called 
aloud,  in  the  end  shouting  with  all  his  might — and 


CONSTERNATION  AT   THE   CASTLE.  197 

his  voice  was  powerful — but  no  response  did  he 
receive. 

At  length  he  thought  of  looking  for  the  girls' 
footsteps,  and  he  found  them  very  soon.  At  only  a 
short  distance  from  the  river  was  a  place  where  a 
bed  of  fine  yellow  sand  had  been  spread  entirely 
across  the  path,  and  here,  as  plain  and  distinct  as 
could  be,  were  the  footprints  of  the  two  girls,  and 
freshly  made.  He  compared  them  with  the  prints 
which  his  own  feet  had  made  on  the  previous  day, 
when  he  had  brought  up  his  boat,  and  then  with 
those  which  he  had  made  on  this  present  crossing. 
The  result  convinced  him  that  the  girls  had  crossed 
only  a  short  time  before. 

And  they  had  not  gone  back!  No;  they  had 
gone  down  toward  the  river,  as  their  footprints 
showed,  but  there  was  no  sign  of  their  feet  going  in 
the  other  direction. 

Where  could  they  have  gone?  He  went  back  to 
the  landing,  and  there  shouted  once  more.  Then 
he  started  upon  a  swift  run  up  the  stream.  On  the 
way  he  happened  to  think  that  there  were  spots 
where  tracks  would  be  found  if  they  had  gone  in  that 
direction.  He  looked,  and  found  none. 

Then  he  went  down  the  shore,  and  with  the  same 
result.  Not  anywhere  could  he  find  a  sign  beyond 
the  landing.  The  girls  had  certainly  made  their 
way  to  that  point.  Aye,  he  found  their  tracks  close 
to  its  inner  edge.  He  stood  upon  the  outer  edge  of 
the  platform,  looking  about  him,  when  his  eye 
chanced  to  droop,  and  suddenly  he  caught  sight  of  a 


I98  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

white  object  like  a  bit  of  fine  lace  or  linen  fluttering 
upon  one  of  the  posts  below. 

He  got  down  to  it  as  quickly  as  possible  and 
brought  it  up.  It  was  a  fine,  lace-bordered  handker- 
chief with  the  monogram  worked  with  crimson  silk 
in  one  corner — "C.  C." 

Merciful  heaven!  What  did  it  mean?  Had  she 
fallen  into  the  flood?  Had  one  of  them  fallen  in, 
and  the  other  nobly  followed  to  save  her  companion? 
Again  he  searched  in  the  new  direction. 

The  current  in  the  river  was  not  rapid.  He  could 
row  his  boat  against  it  without  great  labor.  Yet  it 
was  sufficient  to  sweep  a  human  body  away  if  its 
owner  could  not  swim. 

The  anxious,  half-frenzied  man  now  cast  free  his 
boat,  and  floated  down  the  stream  until  he  knew 
there  could  be  no  use  in  his  going  further,  and  he 
had  seen  no  sign  either  in  the  water  or  on  the  bank. 

Slowly  he  pulled  back  and  made  his  boat  fast 
again.  What  could  he  now  do  better  than  to 
return  to  the  castle?  Perhaps  he  would  find  them 
there.  Something  might  have  frightened  them  and 
sent  them  back ;  or  Cordelia  might  have  felt  unwell 
and  gone  home  for  that  cause. 

If  he  did  not  find  them  he  could  give  the  alarm 
and  set  the  servants  of  the  household  upon  the 
search.  And  the  sooner  that  was  done  the  better. 

So  back  to  the  castle  he  went.  It  was  near  ten 
o'clock  when  he  arrived.  Had  Lady  Cordelia  come 
home?  was  his  first  question.  The  old  steward 
looked  at  him  in  wonder.  How  did  he  expect  her 


CONSTERNATION  AT   THE   CASTLE.  199 

to  come  home,  when  she  had  gone  away  on  purpose 
to  sail  with  him  in  his  boat?  No.  She  hadn't 
come. 

While  they  were  speaking — they  were  in  the  main 
hall — the  earl  joined  them.  He  had  heard,  and 
recognized,  young  Maitland's  voice,  and  he  was  anx- 
ious to  know  what  had  brought  him  back  so  soon, 
and,  he  was  sure,  alone.  The  story  was  quickly  told. 

The  old  man  was  in  agony.  That  some  direful 
calamity  had  befallen  he  was  sure. 

"Oh,  Percy!  Percy!  We  must  find  her!  You 
will  not  forsake  me  in  this  great  need?" 

"Forsake  you,  my  lord;  I  would  give  my  life  at 
this  moment,  were  she  in  danger,  to  rescue  her  from 
it !  My  hand  and  my  heart  are  yours  until  she  shall 
be  found.  We  shall  find  her,  sir.  I  am  sure  we 
shall  find  her — though  it  may  take  time.  Oh,  no 
one  could  harm  her!  Who  could  have  the  heart?" 

"Oh,  Percy,  those  dreadful  pirates!  They  know- 
that  I  have  been  ordered  to  put  forth  my  hand 
against  them ;  and  this  may  be  a  means  they  have 
adopted  for  gaining  a  powerful  hold  upon  me!" 
And  from  that  moment  the  earl  seemed  to  look 
upon  the  smuggler's  son  as  his  one  stay  and  support. 

Percy's  thoughts  took  a  different  direction  from 
those  of  the  earl.  He  was  inclined  to  regard  Lord 
Oakleigh  as  the  villain  whose  hand  had  thus  been 
laid  upon  them. 

Look  at  it  in  what  way  he  might,  he  could  not  put 
away  the  belief.  Not  only  the  young  lord's  charac- 
ter— his  heartlessness,  his  recklessness,  and  his  desire 


200  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

to  possess  the  lady — pointed  him  out  as  the  prob- 
able culprit;  but  he  had  made  threats — he  had 
sworn  to  the  girl  herself,  with  a  horrible  oath — that 
he  would  make  her  his  own  very  soon. 

Yes.  Percy  believed  Lord  Oakleigh  to  be  the 
man ;  but  he  would  not  say  so  yet.  Time  should 
show.  First,  however,  they  must  gain  some  sign — 
some  token  of  the  whereabouts  of  the  missing  ones. 

The  servants  had  collected  and  a  general  inter- 
change of  opinions  had  taken  place — as  weak  and 
aimless  as  such  interchanges  usually  are — when  the 
earl,  after  a  time  of  painful  thought,  looked  toward 
the  smuggler's  son,  and  finally  went  up  to  him  and 
laid  his  trembling  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"Percy  Maitland,  find  my  darling !  I  am  old ;  I 
am  shaken.  I  am  not  what  once  I  was.  Oh,  find 
her!  find  her!"  And  he  then  turned  to  the  servants 
and  instructed  them  that  to  Maitland  they  were  to 
look  for  direction,  and  he  charged  them  to  obey  him 
in  every  particular.  And  so  the  search  commenced, 
the  earl  himself  going  with  them.  He  could  not 
lead,  nor  could  he  remain  behind. 

Meantime  where  were  Cordelia  and  Mary  Sey- 
mour? 

On  that  morning  Cordelia  arose  with  the  sun. 
Percy  had  promised  her,  if  the  weather  should  be 
propitious,  that  he  would  have  his  boat  at  the  Park 
landing,  and  take  her,  with  Mary,  to  sail  on  the  river. 

She  arose  and  looked  forth ;  and  never  had  she 
beheld  the  promise  of  a  more  beautiful  day.  She 


CONSTERNATION  AT   THE   CASTLE.  2OI 

called  her  maid,  and  bade  her  go  to  the  steward  and 
have  a  basket  filled  with  a  proper  lunch  for  three 
persons,  after  which  she  repaired  to  the  apartment 
of  the  cook  and  asked  for  breakfast. 

She  wanted  it  at  once — for  herself  and  Mary — 
because  she  was  going  away.  She  was  not  particular 
about  much  cooking.  She  had  eaten  cold  victuals 
before,  and  could  do  it  again. 

Everything  went  to  please  her,  and  by  the  time 
the  sun  was  two  hours  high  she  was  ready  to  set 
forth.  She  went  in  to  kiss  her  grandpa,  but  he  had 
not  arisen ;  so  she  left  word  for  him  where  she  was 
going  and  with  whom.  The  hands  of  the  old  clock 
in  the  hall  were  pointing  to  quarter-past  seven  as  the 
two  girls  passed  through,  and  ere  long  they  were 
beyond  the  castle  walls,  tripping  merrily  along  one 
of  the  graveled  walks  of  the  park,  but  the  fresh,  cool 
breeze  of  night  had  prevented  the  fall  of  dew,  so 
they  took  the  velvety  sward  when  the  fancy  struck 
them.  Percy  had  said  on  the  previous  evening  that 
he  would  come  to  the  castle  for  them ;  but  she  was 
confident  he  would  come  by  way  of  the  river  bank 
and  the  landing,  so  it  could  make  no  difference, 
only  in  this,  they  would  gain  so  much  more  time 
for  the  sail.  If  he  had  not  reached  the  landing  on 
their  arrival  at  that  point  they  would  wait  there 
for  him. 

They  had  crossed  the  open  slope  of  the  park  and 
entered  the  woodland  path  when  they  heard  voices 
away  upon  their  left — the  voices  of  men,  as  in  ordi- 
nary conversation.  They  stopped  for  a  time  and 


202  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

listened.  Mary  suggested  that  they  should  turn 
back;  but  her  mistress  bade  her  to  wait  and  listen. 
They  stood  thus  for  several  minutes,  hearing  not 
another  sound. 

"Ho!"  cried  Cordelia,  in  her  brave  confidence, 
"what  should  harm  us  here?  Why!  this  is  a  part 
of  the  park." 

"But  there  were  men,  certainly,"  said  the  maid ; 
"and  of  course  they  must  have  been  strangers." 

"Honest  men,  you  foolish  girl,  who  have  been  out 
thus  early  to  catch  a  few  fish  for  breakfast." 

"Then  they  must  be  poachers,  my  lady;  and  I'm 
sure  they  are  not  honest  men." 

Cordelia  laughed  merrily  at  her  companion's  witty 
retort,  and  shortly  afterward  they  started  on  again 
toward  the  river.  They  reached  the  landing,  where 
they  found  the  boat  in  waiting,  but  no  boatman. 

"Percy  is  not  here!" 

"You  did  not  expect  to  find  him  here,  did  you, 
lady?" 

"Why,  no ;  but  I  thought  we  should  surely  meet 
him.  However,  he  will  soon  be  here.  It  is  past  the 
time  he  set." 

"For  meeting  us  at  the  castle,  lady,  not  here." 

"Pshaw !  What  do  you  take  me  up  so  quickly  for, 
Mary?  You  make  me  quite  nervous." 

"Dear  lady,  pray  do  not  pay  any  attention  to 
what  I  say.  I  suppose  I  am  a  little  timid.  At  all 
events,  I  can  not  help  wishing  we  had  not  come 
here  alone." 

"Well,  to  tell  the  plain  truth,  Mary,  I   begin  to 


CONSTERNATION  AT   THE   CASTLE.  203 

wish  so  myself.  But  it  is  too  late  to  cry  now.  He 
will  not  be  long  after  this.  Ah!  What's  that?  A 
man  !  A  stranger !" 

Yes,  as  the  last  words  addressed  to  her  companion 
fell  from  her  lips  she  was  startled  by  a  quick  footfall 
behind  her;  and  on  looking  around  she  beheld  a 
man  advancing  rapidly  toward  her,  and  presently  she 
saw  that  he  was  not  alone. 

There  was  another,  and  another;  aye,  and  still 
another,  four  of  them  in  all ;  and  a  more  rough  and 
villainous  set  she  had  never  seen. 

In  fact,  the  foremost  man — he  who  seemed  to  be 
the  leader  of  the  others — was  the  very  worst-looking, 
the  most  wicked  and  cruel  looking  human  being  she 
had  ever  set  eyes  upon. 

He  was  a  man  tall  and  stout,  dressed  in  the  garb 
of  the  sea,  though  the  material  was  rich  and  costly. 

The  velvet  was  of  the  finest ;  the  silk  and  satin 
seemingly  of  the  softest;  a  massive  gold  chain 
around  his  neck  was  attached  to  his  watch,  while 
a  large  diamond  of  purest  water  sparkled  in.  the 
silken  kerchief  loosely  knotted  at  his  throat. 

His  face  reminded  her  of  a  wild  beast,  and  noth- 
ing else.  His  full  beard,  long,  thick  and  shaggy,  and 
the  mass  of  hair  that  covered  his  head,  were  like  the 
mane  of  a  lion  in  color  and  character.  His  eyes, 
gleaming  beneath  the  overhanging  brows,  were  bright 
like  fire  and  black  as  coals. 

In  an  instant  Cordelia  thought  of  Ralph  Tryon, 
the  pirate  chief.  Percy  had  described  him  to  her 
minutely,  and  here  he  certainly  was. 


204  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE, 

With  a  low,  faint  cry,  and  with  her  two  hands 
clasped  over  her  bosom,  she  started  back,  but  she 
could  not  move  far  in  that  direction,  as  the  edge  of 
the  platform  was  directly  behind  her. 

"Sweet  lady,"  the  man  said,  his  voice  hoarse,  as 
voices  are  apt  to  be  that  have  been  long  used  to  ris- 
ing above  the  roar  of  the  tempest,  "I  trust  you  are 
not  afraid  of  me." 

He  bowed  as  he  spoke,  and  looked  at  her  with  an 
expression  which  she  could  not  translate,  though  it 
appeared  to  her  one  of  cruel  malevolence. 

She  noticed  now  that  he  carried  his  right  hand 
pushed  inside  the  bosom  of  his  vest,  and  she  remem- 
bered what  she  had  heard  of  his  being  wounded  in 
that  arm. 

"Lady!"  he  pursued,  after  a  lengthy  pause,  "have 
you  no  word  for  me?  May  I  not  be  permitted  to 
hear  the  sweet  music  of  your  voice?" 

"Sir!"  our  heroine  returned,  struggling  with  all 
her  might  to  speak  calmly,  or  at  least  coherently — • 
"who  are  you?  Why  have  you  thus  placed  yourself 
in  my  way?  What  would  you  with  me? 

At  this  point,  and  before  tfre  chief  could  reply  to 
the  lady's  demand,  one  of  those  behind — a  dark- 
visaged,  low-browed,  villainous-looking  man — came 
to  his  side  and  whispered  something  in  his  ear.  His 
words  Cordelia  could  not  distinguish,  but  she  had  no 
difficulty  in  distinguishing  the  response. 

"Aye,  Gurt,  you're  right,"  the  tawny  chief  said. 
"The  sooner  we  haul  our  wind  out  o'  this  the  better 
it  may  be  for  us.  Bryan  !  Jack !  This  way,  and  lend 


A    TERRIBLE  MOMENT.  205 

a  hand.     Mind   now,  no  roughness!     Handle   them 
as  lightly  as  you  can." 

And   the  three    men,  thus    commanded,    moved 
forward. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A  TERRIBLE   MOMENT. 

As  our  heroine  heard  the  address  of  the  chief  to 
his  comrades,  and  then  saw  the  latter  move  toward 
her,  she  looked  to  see  a  possible  way  of  escape,  but 
there  was  none.  There  was  but  one  hope,  and  that 
was  in  help.  She  whispered  to  Mary,  who  was 
clinging  closely  to  her  side : 

"Scream !" 

And  a  scream — two  of  them — that  seemed  to  split 
the  welkin,  broke  upon  the  startled  air.  With  a 
fierce  oath  the  chief  himself  sprang  upon  Cordelia, 
throwing  his  left  arm  around  her  shoulders,  at  the 
same  time  pressing  his  right  hand  over  her  mouth. 
The  maid  was  likewise  secured  and  her  mouth 
stopped. 

Cordelia  was  both  brave  and  strong.  With  all 
her  might  she  struggled,  and  quickly  succeeded  in 
freeing  her  right  hand,  which  she  instantly  raised 
and  clasped  upon  the  wrist  of  the  hand  over  her 
mouth,  wrenching  it  away  and  at  the  same  time  send- 
ing forth  another  scream  for  help. 

But  her  cry  was  not  more  startling  nor  more  fran- 
tic than  was  the  howl  of  pain  and  agony  that  burst 


206  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

from  Ralph  Tryon's  lips — for  we  know  him  by  this 
time — when  the  grasp  of  the  girl  was  laid  upon  his 
wrist,  and  the  furious  wrench  given  it. 

"Gurt !  Gurt ! — she's  broken  my  arm  again ! 
Seize  her  and  stop  her  noise !" 

By  this  time  the  maid  had  been  so  far  secured 
that  one  man  could  care  for  her,  which  left  two  of 
the  ruffians  to  care  for  the  mistress,  the  chief  having 
moved  aside  to  nurse  his  aching  limb. 

Cordelia's  hands  were  quickly  bound  behind  her, 
and  a  thick  large  bandanna  was  bound  over  her 
mouth  for  a  gag,  effectually  preventing  any  more 
calling  for  help. 

After  this  the  chief,  whom  the  lady  now  knew  was 
none  other  than  Ralph  Tryon,  started  on  ahead, 
directing  his  men  to  follow  as  rapidly  as  possible. 

He  took  his  course  down  the  river's  bank,  keeping 
close  to  the  water,  and  at  the  distance  of  a  hundred 
yards  and  a  little  more  they  came  to  a  small  cove 
wherein  lay  a  boat. 

The  two  captives  had  been  led  at  a  pace  that 
forced  them  more  than  once  to  break  from  a  walk 
into  a  run,  but  they  had  not  been  used  roughly. 

Into  the  boat  they  were  lifted  without  ceremony, 
and  carried  aft  to  the  stern-sheets,  where  they  were 
caused  to  sit  on  one  of  the  sides;  and  presently  the 
chief  came  aft  and  sat  down  directly  opposite. 

Then  the  head-fast  was  cast  off,  and  the  last  man 
sprang  in  and  came  to  the  tiller,  the  other  two  tak- 
ing the  oars,  and  very  soon  the  boat,  which  appeared 
to  be  a  common  long-boat,  such  as  is  carried  by 


A    TERRIBLE  MOMENT.  207 

coasting  vessels,  shot  out  into  the  stream,  with  her 
head  toward  the  sea,  and  sped  rapidly  on.  The  oars- 
men were  strong  and  skillful,  and  they  had  the  cur- 
rent  in  their  favor. 

The  distance  from  the  park  landing,  where  the 
capture  had  been  made,  to  the  bay  was  little  more 
than  two  miles,  and  to  the  village  not  more  than  a 
mile  and  a  half. 

Cordelia  knew  that  the  smuggler — now  the  pirate — 
brig  lay  in  King's  Cove,  and  she  wondered  if  she 
was  to  be  taken  there.  She  hardly  thought  it. 

Too  many  of  the  crew  would  be  opposed  to  it ; 
and,  again,  those  strange  men  would  sympathize  with 
her,  and,  if  they  dared,  seek  to  help  her.  No,  she 
was  not  to  be  taken  there.  Where  then? 

But  another  thing  began  to  claim  her  attention. 
Her  breathing  was  becoming  labored  and  painful. 
And  so  it  was  with  the  maid.  They  looked  at  each 
other,  and  then  looked  across  at  the  man  opposite. 
He  saw  plainly  the  torture  they  were  suffering. 

"Ah,  my  dear  lady !"  he  said,  with  a  curious  look 
at  our  heroine,  "you  appear  to  be  suffering  a  slight 
discomfort  just  now,  but  it  can't  be  much  like  the 
twinge  you  gave  me  a  little  while  ago.  Upon  my 
word,  if  you'd  been  a  man  I  think  I  should  have 
shot  you  where  you  stood.  I  thought  you'd  broken 
the  bone  again,  which  the  surgeon  at  Burton  set  for 
me;  but  you  hadn't,  so  I'll  forgive  you.  And  now, 
say,  if  I'll  take  off  that  gag  will  you  give  me  your 
word  not  to  cry  out  for  help?" 

She  hesitated.    She  knew  if  she  should  give  her 


2o8  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

word  that  she  would  not  break  it.  No  matter  what 
opportunity  might  present  itself,  she  could  not 
take  advantage  of  it,  should  she  give  such  a  promise. 

"It  makes  not  a  particle  of  difference  to  me,"  the 
chief  added,  after  a  considerable  pause,  finding  that 
the  lady  did  not  speak.  "If  you  are  comfortable  as 
you  are,  keep  on  the  bandanna  by  all  means,  though 
I  must  confess  it  is  not  very  becoming  to  you,  nor 
does  it  look  like  a  thing  that  I  should  take  particu- 
lar comfort  in.  Exercise  your  own  pleasure,  my 
lady." 

This  added  cruelty  of  sarcasm  almost  caused  the 
girl  to  put  up  with  her  suffering  rather  than  accept 
a  favor  at  the  wretch's  hands ;  but  the  torture  was 
becoming  insupportable.  She  could  not  endure  it ; 
and,  by  and  by,  she  signified  that  he  had  her  promise. 

"You  promise,  mind  you — if  I  remove  this  gag 
from  your  mouth  that  you  won't  offer  to  cry  out, 
nor  make  any  disturbance  of  any  kind?"  She 
silently  promised ;  and  Mary  did  the  same. 

"Well,  my  lady,"  after  looking  her  straight  in  the 
eye  for  full  ten  seconds — a  look  which  she  returned 
without  flinching — "Who  do  you  think  I  am?" 

"I  know  who  you  are,  sir,"  she  replied  promptly. 
He  started ;  but  quickly  recovered  himself. 

"Well,  who  am  I?" 

"You  are  Captain  Tryon  of  the  brig  Staghound." 

"Upon  my  word  !  Your  gallant  knight  must  have 
given  you  a  pretty  sharp  description  of  me." 

Cordelia's  first  impulse  was  one  of  anger  at  this 
slur;  but  she  thought  how  foolish  it  would  be,  and 


A    TERRIBLE  MOMENT.  209 

straightway  resolved  that  nothing  his  tongue  could 
frame  should  cause  her  to  betray  or  forget  herself. 

She  looked  at  him  steadily  for  a  moment,  and 
then,  with  a  tinge  in  her  tone  which  paid  him  back 
in  full,  she  said : 

"Captain  Tryon,  if  you  will  look  into  a  mirror 
when  you  next  see  one  I  think  you  will  discover  a 
face  not  likely  to  be  forgotten  when  once  seen,  and 
not  at  all  difficult  to  describe." 

"Will  you  tell  me  how  you  would  describe  it?" 

"No,  sir.    I  will  not." 

"Why  not?" 

"You  would  be  angry." 

"Oho!     Am  I  so  ugly?" 

"I  prefer  not  to  tell  you  what  you  are." 

"Well  I'm  sorry  for  that.  Do  you  know,  dear 
lady,  I  had  almost  made  up  my  mind  to  ask  you  to 
be  my  wife." 

She  did  not  start ;  the  speech  did  not  frighten 
her,  for  she  had  not  the  least  thought  that  he  meant 
anything  more  than  simple  badinage.  So  it  was  for 
a  little  time ;  by  and  by,  as  the  man  continued  to 
eye  her  sharply,  she  asked  herself — why  had  he 
done  this  thing? 

Merciful  heaven !  Was  it  possible  that  he  had 
seen  her,  and  that  he  had  conceived  a  passion  to 
possess  her  for  his  own?  The  thought  came  to  her 
like  a  bolt  of  thunder  from  a  clear  sky. 

"Captain  Tryon,  for  what  purpose  have  you  laid 
ruffianly  hands  upon  me  and  dragged  me  away  with 
yourself  in  this  manner?" 


210  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

"Wait  for  a  little  time,  dear  lady.  I  will  explain 
by  and  by.  We  must  land  here." 

They  had  gone  down  to  a  point  near  to  the  vil- 
lage, but  shut  away  from  it  by  intervening  woods, 
where,  on  the  side  of  the  stream  opposite  to  that 
from  which  they  had  set  forth,  was  another  small 
inlet,  into  which  the  boat  had  been  steered. 

There  was  an  easy,  natural  landing,  on  a  bit  of 
bold  shore,  where  a  table  of  rock  came  out  into  the 
water,  against  the  edge  of  which  the  boat  lay  with- 
out difficulty. 

The  girls  were  here  helped  out,  and  conducted  a 
short  distance  up  into  the  woods.  Cordelia  knew 
that  the  sloping  foot  of  Witch's  Crag  was  not  a  great 
way  off,  and  a  few  moments  later,  when  they  had 
stopped,  and  Tryon  told  them  they  must  be  blind- 
folded, she  was  able  to  give  a  pretty  close  guess 
as  to  their  destination. 

"Why  should  you  wish  to  blind  us?"  she  asked. 
"Have  you  a  secret  which  you  are  afraid  we  might 
discover?" 

"Never  mind  my  reason.  I  choose  that  you  shall 
be  hoodwinked.  It  will  not  hurt  you  ;  and  I  promise 
you  no  indignity  shall  be  offered  while  you  are  in 
that  situation." 

For  one  brief  moment  our  heroine's  thoughts 
were  deep  and  rapid ;  the  result  was  she  submitted 
without  opposition  and  without  further  remark. 

The  kerchiefs  which  had  been  before  bound  over 
their  mouths  were  now  bound  tightly  over  their 
eyes,  after  which  they  moved  on ;  and  ere  long,  as  she 


A    TERRIBLE  MOMENT.  211 

Tiad  anticipated,  they  emerged  from  the  wood  upon 
the  rough  and  ragged  slope  of  the  crag. 

They  found  a  very  good  path,  however,  and  were 
able  to  proceed  without  difficulty.  Up — up — up,  the 
gradual  slope,  Cordelia  judged,  very  nearly  half  a 
mile — and  then  they  stopped ;  and  from  the  change 
in  the  feeling  of  the  air  she  was  confident  they  had 
entered  one  of  the  caves,  which  she  had  several  times 
visited  in  company  with  Percy  Maitland. 

She  wondered  could  it  be  that  into  which  she  and 
her  friends  had  looked  a  few  days  before  from  the 
end  of  the  subterranean  passage  they  had  explored. 
If  it  should  so  prove,  then  she  might  be  taken  into 
a  place  not  unknown  to  her.  She  was  destined, 
however,  to  a  disappointment  of  which  she  had  not 
dreamed. 

She  heard  words  spoken  between  her  captors,  and 
presently  she  heard  a  sound  as  of  the  very  slight 
creaking  of  a  heavy  door  on  its  hinges. 

She  knew  that  a  passage  had  been  opened  before 
her  by  the  sudden  sweeping  of  a  current  of  air  on  her 
face ;  and  a  few  moments  afterward,  she  was  again  led 
forward,  being  caused  to  stoop  as  she  advanced. 

If  she  could  have  whispered,  unheard  by  others, 
to  Mary,  she  would  have  said:  "We  are  passing 
through  an  aperture  in  the  wall  where  we  stopped 
on  our  recent  voyage  of  discovery.  This  is  the  very 
wall  in  which  we  found  the  crevice  through  which 
we  looked  into  the  outer  cave." 

When  they  had  all  passed  through  she  distinctly 
heard  the  way  closed  behind  them  ;  and  shortly 


212  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

thereafter  they  moved  on  again,  Cordelia  smelling 
the  fumes  of  a  burning  candle  or  lamp. 

She  was  confident — she  felt  that  she  knew — that 
they  were  now  in  a  place  which  she  had  visited 
once  before ;  yet,  ere  long,  she  met  with  something 
that  confounded  her. 

They  had  gone  perhaps  a  hundred  yards  beyond 
the  point  where  she  had  stooped  in  passing",  when 
they  came  to  a  halt,  and  pretty  soon  she  heard  on  the 
left  hand  another  sound,  like  the  swinging  of  a  pon- 
derous mass  on  hinges  or  on  a  pivot,  and  there  was, 
moreover,  a  peculiar  grating  sound  as  though  one 
surface  of  stone  had  come  in  contact  with  another 
in  motion. 

"Now,  my  lady,  this  way.  You  will  have  to  stoop 
a  little."  They  had  turned  squarely  to  the  left,  and, 
as  he  spoke,  Tryon  placed  his  hand  on  Cordelia's 
head,  causing  her  to  stoop  considerably  lower  than 
before.  She  made  no  resistance  whatever,  but  kept 
her  ears  open  and  every  sense  she  could  use  keenly 
alert. 

She  heard  the  closing  of  the  way  behind  her,  and 
when  she  next  stood  erect  she  felt  that  she  was 
treading  on  something  like  a  carpet. 

At  all  events  it  was  not  the  bare  rock.  She  was 
conducted  a  short  distance  further,  then  caused  to  sit, 
and  the  hoodwink  was  removed  from  her  eyes. 

The  light  of  two  or  three  small  waxen  tapers  was 
not  sufficient  to  dazzle  her  sight ;  but  sufficient  to 
reveal  to  her  what  manner  of  place  she  was  in. 

It  was  a  cavern,  very  nearly  square  in  form ;  the 


A    TERRIBLE  MOMENT.  213 

walls  seamed  and  uneven,  but  not  ragged ;  the  roof 
very  high  and  quaintly  arched,  that  is,  it  was  a  one- 
sided arch,  like  the  half  of  a  ship-roofed  house. 

The  floor,  which  appeared  to  be  comparatively 
level  and  smooth,  was  covered  with  a  sort  of  Turk- 
ish matting,  very  soft  and  easy  to  the  feet.  More- 
over, there  was  considerable  furniture  in  the  place, 
several  chairs,  a  chest  of  drawers,  a  large  oaken  cabi- 
net and  a  good  sized  table.  In  one  corner  was  a  fire- 
place, and  on  looking  at  the  roof  the  observer  could 
detect  an  aperture  where  smoke  might  escape. 

Another  thing  Cordelia  saw:  an  opening  into 
another  cave,  a  chamber  beyond  this.  Tryon  saw 
that  she  had  discovered  it,  and  he  bade  her  to  come 
with  him  and  look. 

He  did  not  offer  to  lay  a  hand  upon  her.  She 
followed  him,  and  soon  entered  another  apartment, 
not  so  large  as  the  first,  but  much  like  it.  Here  was 
more  furniture,  and  here  was  a  bed,  seemingly  clean 
and  freshly  made. 

"My  dear  lady,  here  you  will  tarry  until  to-mor- 
row. You  will  here  be  safe.  No  harm  can  possibly 
come  to  you.  You  shall  have  plenty  to  eat ;  yonder 
bed  is  sweet  and  clean ;  and  you  may  rest  in  it  with- 
out dread." 

"Ralph  Tryon!  What  is  your  intention  toward 
me?  Why  have  you  done  this  cruel,  wicked  thing? 
What  end  have  you  in  view?" 

"Lady,  you  shall  be  fully  informed  on  the  morrow, 
and  when  you  have  heard  all  I  shall  have  to  say  you 
may  not  be  so  greatly  surprised  that  I  have  done 


214  THE  SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

what  you  are  pleased  to  call  a  cruel,  wicked  thing. 
Wait,  wait,  my  dear  girl,  and  you  shall  know  every- 
thing. It  would  not  be  well  that  you  should  know 
my  purpose  without  knowing,  at  the  same  time,  the 
causes  that  have  moved  me,  and  those  I  must  keep 
from  you  a  little  longer.  Have  patience.  The  mor- 
row will  soon  be  here." 

"Oh,  Captain  Tryon !"  She  had  sprung  forward 
and  sank  upon  her  knees  before  him  with  her  clasped 
hands  upraised. 

He  stopped  her  with  an  oath,  and  lifted  her  bodily 
to  her  feet  and  set  her  back  in  her  chair. 

"Lady  Cordelia  Chester,  were  all  the  wealth  of 
all  the  world  at  your  command,  and  you  could  offer 
it  to  me  for  mine  own,  for  it  all  I  would  not  suffer 
you  to  put  one  of  your  feet  beyond  the  outer  door  of 
yonder  cavern  until  I  am  ready  to  take  you  out  on 
my  own  terms.  Is  that  plain  to  you?" 

A  moment  she  gazed  into  his  face,  a  great  horror — 
a  nameless,  shapeless  dread — weighing  her  down  like 
an  incubus,  and  then  she  sank  back  and  covered  her 
face  with  her  hands.  When  she  next  looked  up  she 
was  alone  with  Mary  Seymour. 
"Where  is  he?" 

"He  has  gone,  dear  lady.  Oh,  this  is  dreadful! 
What  shall  we  do?  Dear  mistress,  what  does  he 
mean?" 

"Sh!     Are  they  not  in  the  other  cavern?" 

"I  think  not.  I  will  look."  And  the  brave  girl  took 
a  candle  and  looked  out  into  the  larger  apartment — 
that  which  they  had  first  entered — and  found  it  empty. 


A    TERRIBLE  MOMENT  215 

"Oh,  dear  mistress!  Who  is  that  man?     What — " 

"Hush!  Let  me  think.  Or — let  us  look  around, 
Mary,  and  determine  where  we  are." 

By  a  little  effort  the  stricken  lady  collected  her 
mental  and  physical  forces,  and  started,  with  her 
companion,  on  a  tour  of  investigation. 

She  went  around  the  larger  cave,  examining 
every  part ;  but  the  point  of  entrance  claimed  her 
special  care.  She  was  able  to  detect  the  section  of 
stone  that  was  movable. 

The  distance  she  had  been  forced  to  stoop  aided 
her  in  determining  this ;  and,  further,  the  instruction 
she  gained  from  Percy,  during  their  exploration  of, 
she  firmly  believed,  a  cavernous  passage  of  which 
this  was  a  branch. 

"Mary,"  she  said,  when  she  had  seen  all  there  was 
to  be  seen,  "you  remember  the  wall  which  stopped 
our  further  progress  on  the  day  when  we  came  with 
Percy  to  the  Old  Chapel — the  wall  in  which  we 
found  a  crevice  though  which  we  looked  forth  into 
another  cave  beyond?" 

"Yes,  lady." 

"Well,  this  is  a  branch  of  that  passage.  Did  you 
notice  how  we  ascended  the  slope  of  the  crag,  and 
how  we  were  led  into  the  first  cave ;  and  then  how 
we  came  to  a  wall,  where  we  stooped  in  passing 
through?  That  was  the  same  wall,  only  we  had 
approached  it  from  the  other  side." 

"I  have  thought  the  very  same,  lady.  Of  course 
we  must  have  passed  the  entrance  to  this  place  on 
that  day." 


216  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

"Certainly ;  but  having  had  no  intimation  of  its 
existence  Percy  did  not  think  of  looking  for  it.  I 
venture  to  say,  with  the  information  which  we  now 
possess,  Mr.  Maitland  would  find  it  without  much 
trouble.  At  any  rate  he  would  find  it." 

They  talked  longer  on  the  same  subject,  and  made 
further  examination ;  and  the  more  they  considered 
the  stronger  became  their  faith  in  the  fact  that  they 
were  in  a  place  separated  only  by  the  thickness  of  a 
wall  from  the  passage  they  had  traversed  under  the 
guidance  of  Percy  Maitland. 

Cordelia  had  worn  her  watch,  and  by  and  by  she 
thought  of  it. 

Twelve  o'clock!  Noon!  Where  was  Percy? 
Where  the  earl?  Where  were  they  looking?  What 
did  they  think?  Oh,  could  Percy  in  any  possible 
way  discover  where  they  were?  If  he  could,  they 
would  be  delivered ! 

An  hour  passed — and  another.  Mary  found  a  box 
in  which  were  plenty  of  wax  tapers.  So  they  would 
not  be  left  in  the  dark. 

It  was  toward  the  latter  part  of  the  afternoon 
when  a  noise  beyond  the  outer  wall  arrested  their 
attention,  and  presently  a  section  of  it — the  very 
stone  Cordelia  had  selected — swung  slowly  inward, 
revealing  an  aperture  about  four  feet  wide,  and  the 
same  in  height. 

Into  the  cave  came  two  of  the  men  who  had 
been  with  Tryon  in  the  morning.  They  brought  be- 
tween them  a  large  basket,  in  which,  they  said,  were 
food  and  drink  sufficient  for  a  small  garrison. 


A    TERRIBLE  MOMENT.   '  217 

The  men  looked  so  repulsive,  so  hard  and  brutish 
and  cruel,  that  neither  of  the  girls  cared  to  ask  them 
a  question ;  and  they  would  have  been  likely  to  re- 
ceive no  answer  had  they  done  so. 

"There,  my  beauties,"  said  the  biggest  and  most 
piratical  looking  of  the  twain,  after  they  had  set  the 
basket  down  and  looked  around,  "I  guess  ye'll  be  all 
right  now.  Rather  cosy  quarters,  aint  they?  One 
thing  ye  ken  be  sure  on — nobody  can't  break  in,  an* 
rob  ye !  Ho  !  ho !  ho !" 

The  two  men  laughed  and  then  departed.  No 
attempt  was  made  to  conceal  from  the  captives  the 
locality  of  the  entrance,  as  the  knowledge,  in  all 
probability,  could  be  of  no  help  to  them. 

The  day  passed,  and  the  evening.  Together 
the  two  girls  sat,  not  yet  quite  hopeless,  though  how 
help  was  to  reach  them  they  could  not  imagine. 

At  length,  when  weariness  had  so  far  over- 
powered them  that  they  could  keep  awake  no  longer, 
they  ventured  to  trust  themselves  in  the  bed.  It 
was,  as  their  captor  had  said,  clean  and  sweet,  or 
freshly  aired,  and  it  was  soft  and  grateful  to  lie  upon. 
They  prayed  in  unison,  and  very  soon  thereafter 
slept. 

Once  during  the  night  Mary  awoke,  and  her 
movement  awoke  her  mistress.  The  former  got  out 
of  bed  and  lighted  two  fresh  tapers,  and  from  that 
they  slept  soundly  until  morning.  They  found 
plenty  of  water,  and  having  washed  and  dressed, 
they  set  out  the  food  and  drink  for  breakfast. 

It  was  then,  by  Cordelia's  watch,  seven  o'clock. 


2l8  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING  S  COVE. 

Two  hours  had  passed  when  she  consulted  the  watch 
again.  Oh,  what  should  come  next? 

Half  an  hour  later,  perhaps  more — they  could  not 
surely  judge — the  sound  of  the  moving  stone  once 
more  fell  upon  their  ears. 

Slowly  it  swung  inward — further  and  further — 
until  the  way  was  open  wide.  And  then  entered 
the  pirate  chief,  Ralph  Tryon,  dressed  in  the  rich  and 
costly  garb  of  an  English  nobleman !  And  behind 
him,  coming  two  abreast,  followed  six  men  of  his  crew 
dressed  in  holiday  attire. 

But  that  was  not  all.  Last — was  it  real  or  but  a  wild 
fancy  of  her  overwrought  brain  ? — last  came  a  man  in 
the  somber  robes  and  bearing  in  his  hands  the  missal 
of  a  Catholic  priest ! 

What  did  it  mean? 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A    SURPRISE    FOR    ALL    HANDS. 

THROUGH  the  long  and  weary  day  and  far  into  the 
night  Percy  and  the  earl  worked  hard  and  unre- 
mittingly in  the  search  for  the  missing  ones. 

During  the  afternoon  the  former  ventured  down 
to  the  shore  of  the  cove,  at  the  point  where  he  had 
once  been  in  the  habit  of  keeping  a  boat  of  his  own, 
and  there  remained  until  he  had  succeeded  in 
attracting  the  attention  of  Donald  Rodney. 

It  was  a  considerable  time  before, the  old  smuggler 


A    SURPRISE  FOR  ALL  HANDS.  219 

could  get  away  from  the  keen  and  suspicious  watch 
of  Ralph  Tryon's  partisans ;  but  his  patient  endeav- 
ors were  finally  rewarded. 

He  took  a  boat  and  pulled  to  the  shore,  ostensibly 
for  the  purpose  of  responding  to  a  signal,  which  he 
professed  to  have  received  from  Margery  Maitland. 

"In  mercy's  name!"  he  ejaculated,  when  he  met 
the  agonized  look  of  his  young  friend,  "what  has 
happened?" 

"Donald,  where  is  Ralph  Tryon?" 

"I  believe  he  is  somewhere  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Burton,  and  I  rather  think  there  is  mischief  afoot. 
Leastwise,  one  of  our  friends  heard  Abel  Jackman, 
when  he  was  talking  with  Gurt  Warnell,  say  some- 
thing about  a  lord's  house  over  there  which  they 
intended  to  visit." 

"Do  you  really  believe  he  is  away  from  here, 
Donald?" 

"Why  shouldn't  I  ?  He  certainly  sent  for  those  men 
to  go  away  with  him  on  a  job  of  some  kind ;  and,  as 
I  just  said,  one  of  our  men — it  was  Tom  Bid  well — 
overheard  Jackman  talkin'  about  Burton.  Yes,  I 
think  he's  there." 

After  a  little  reflection  Percy  told  to  his  friend 
the  story  of  the  wonderful  disappearance  of  Lady 
Cordelia  Chester  and  her  maid. 

Rodney  was  deeply  affected,  but  he  did  not  believe 
Tryon  had  anything  to  do  with  it.  If  such  a  thing 
had  been  in  the  wind  he  was  sure  he  would  have  de- 
tected some  signs  of  it.  But  one  thing  the  old  man 
promised.  He  would  return  to  the  brig,  and  he 


220  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

would  not  rest  until  he  had  found  out  all  that  could 
possibly  be  discovered  in  that  quarter. 

"And,  my  dear  boy,"  he  added,  earnestly,  "nothing 
shall  prevent  me  from  giving  you  information  as 
soon  as  it  comes  to  me.  I  will  either  come  myself 
or  send  Guy  to-morrow  morning  at  all  events,  whether 
I  have  news  or  not." 

It  was  not  very  satisfying;  but  the  interview,  and 
the  bringing  it  about,  had  used  up  two  pain-laden 
hours,  besides  giving  him  something  more  to  think  of 
and  look  forward  to. 

He  had  taken  to  himself  a  hope  that  old  Rodney 
would  bring  him  something  of  importance  in  the 
morning,  if  not  before.  It  was  very  slight — very 
slight  indeed ;  but  a  ray  of  light  came  with  it, 
nevertheless. 

Leaving  the  shore  of  the  cove,  our  hero  made  his 
way  to  the  inn  at  the  village,  where  he  was  to  have  a 
new  direction  given  to  his  thoughts — or,  rather,  an 
aforetime  thought  was  to  be  revived. 

"Ah,  Maitland !  the  very  man  I've  been  wishing 
for,"  the  host  exclaimed,  as  our  hero  made  his 
appearance  in  the  tap-room.  "That  horse  has  come. 
Just  step  around  this  way  with  me,  and  you  shall 
have  a  look  at  him." 

Percy  knew  this  to  be  simply  a  bHnd  for  closing 
the  eyes  of  the  few  loungers  in  the  room.  He  fol- 
lowed the  good  man  out  through  the  bar  into  a  little 
parlor  beyond,  where  with  the  doors  closed  they 
were  safe  from  intrusion. 

"Maitland,  you  asked  me,  this  noon,  about  Lord 


A    SURPRISE  FOR  ALL  HANDS.  221 

Oakleigh ;  and  I  told  you  I  knew  nothing  about  him. 
Well,  I  can  tell  ye  more  now.  Dan  Corbett  came 
in  half  an  hour  ago  and  told  me  he  met  the  young 
lord  over  at  Saybrook,  at  Seth  Arnold's  inn,  last 
evening." 

"He  knows  it  was  Lord  Oakleigh?"  interrogated 
the  youth,  much  excited. 

"Bless  ye,  yes!  He  knows  Lord  Oakleigh  as 
well  as  he  knows  you  or  me." 

"Last  evening?" 

"Yes." 

"At  what  time?" 

"It  must  have  been  somewhere  between  eight  and 
ten  o'clock." 

"Does  he  know  what  he  was  doing  there,  or  any- 
thing about  what  he  intended  to  do?" 

"He  could  make  out  only  this:  His  lordship  was 
in  a  great  flurry,  with  his  right  arm  in  a  sling,  Dan 
said ;  and  seemed  to  be  waiting  for  somebody — Dan 
thought  his  servant — who  was  to  take  him  away  from 
there ;  but  where  he  was  bound  or  what  he  was  about, 
I  couldn't  find  out." 

Percy  asked  a  few  more  questions,  and  then,  hav- 
ing thanked  the  landlord  for  his  kindness,  he  left  the 
inn  and  made  all  possible  haste  to  the  castle.  He 
was  well  armed,  and  he  kept  a  sharp  lookout  around 
as  he  wended  his  way  through  the  bit  of  woods  he 
had  to  traverse,  for  he  well  knew  that  he  had  deadly 
enemies,  and  there  was  no  telling  where  nor  when 
they  might  strike.  At  the  castle  he  found  the  earl, 
pacing  to  and  fro,  suffering  intensely. 


222  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

"Percy,  dear  boy!  what  have  you  found?" 

"Will  you  sit  down,  my  lord,  and  listen  to  me  for 
a  few  moments?"  The  old  man  did. as  requested, 
and  the  youth  went  on : 

"Lord  Allerdale,  I  am  going  to  surprise  you — to 
wound  you  ;  but  you  must  bear  it  as  best  you  can. ' 
When  it  was  first  known  to  me  that  Lady  Cor- 
delia had  been  taken  away — as  we  know  she  must 
have  been — my  suspicions  fell  upon — Lord  Oak- 
leigh.  I  believed  he  was  more  likely  to  be  the 
abductor  than  any  other  man;  and  now  I  am  sure 
of  it." 

"Oh,  Percy !     Don't  say  it !" 

"My  lord,  where  do  you  think  is  his  lordship  at 
the  present  time?" 

"He  is  at  Oxford." 

"He  was  at  the  Saybrook  inn  at  nine  to  ten  o'clock 
last  evening,  my  lord.  That  I  know."  And  thereupon 
the  young  man  went  on  and  related  all  that  he  had 
learned  from  old  Rodney,  at  the  Cove,  and  from 
Martin  Vanyard  at  the  inn.  He  was  sorry  to  say  it, 
but  he  was  confident  that  Oakleigh  was  the  offending 
party. 

"My  lord,"  he  pursued,  "did  Cordelia  tell  you 
what  Lord  Oakleigh  said  to  her  on  the  occasion  of 
their  late  interview  in  the  garden?" 

"She  did  not  tell  me  all,  but  I  know  he  was  very 
unkind." 

"Aye, — and  he  used  threats.  He  bade  her  be- 
ware of  him ;  and — but,  my  lord,  I  need  not  tell  you 
any  more."  He  had  come  to  the  point  where  his 


A    SURPRISE  FOR  ALL  HANDS.  223 

own  name  had  entered  into  the  discussion,  and  of 
this  he  cared  not  to  speak. 

However,  the  earl  was  satisfied  that  his  young 
friend  might  be  right,  and  he  finally  confessed  that 
his  own  suspicions  had  run  in  that  direction,  but  he 
had  fought  them  down  with  all  his  might. 

Half  an  hour  later,  our  hero,  with  a  trusty  servant 
of  the  castle  in  company,  was  on  his  way  to  Say- 
brook,  a  small  town  five  miles  away  toward  the  south. 

He  had  a  smart  horse,  and  a  light,  easy-going  vehi- 
cle, and  the  passage  was  speedily  made.  There  at 
the  inn,  he  found  the  host — Seth  Arnold,  who,  when 
he  knew  the  messenger  had  come  from  the  old  earl, 
was  ready  to  give  all  the  information  he  could ;  but 
that  was  not  much,  although  it  was  something. 

Lord  Oakleigh  had  been  at  the  inn — the  Stag 
and  Hounds — on  the  preceding  evening,  and  had 
appeared  to  be  in  a  great  hurry,  walking  nervously 
about,  with  his  arm  in  a  sling,  cursing  and  swearing 
to  himself.  At  about  ten  o'clock  his  servant  had 
arrived  with  a  light  dog-cart,  into  which  he  had  gone 
and  been  driven  away;  and  the  landlord  had  seen 
nothing  more  of  him. 

"Which  way  did  they  go?" 

"Back  toward  your  way,  Allerdale." 

A  few  more  questions,  and  Percy  started  on  his 
return  to  the  castle,  where  he  arrived  at  about  nine 
o'clock  in  the  evening. 

The  earl,  on  hearing  the  report,  surrendered  his 
last  doubt.  He  was  now  convinced  that  his  grand- 
son was  the  villain.  Oh,  what  would  he  do? 


224  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

"Let  us  not  think,"  said  the  younger  man.  "Let 
us  find  them  and  set  the  lady  free." 

"Heaven  send  that  we  may  do  it !" 

Percy  went  again  to  the  village,  where  he  made 
further  inquiries;  but  nothing  of  importance  was 
learned.  He  had  promised  the  earl  that  he  would 
spend  the  night  at  the  castle ;  so  at  midnight  he  re- 
turned, finding  the  old  nobleman  up  waiting  for  him. 

It  seemed  almost  wrong  to  go  to  bed  and  to  sleep 
while  the  dear  one  was  lost  to  them,  but  the  de- 
mands of  nature  were  not  to  be  denied.  The  earl 
read  a  prayer,  the  youth  prayed  fervently  from 
his  own  heart,  and  then  they  sought  their  rest. 

It  was  near  the  hour  of  eight  o'clock  on  the  fol- 
lowing morning,  and  our  hero  had  been  to  the  village 
and  back  again  to  the  castle,  and  was  on  his  way  to 
the  village  once  more,  when  he  was  met  by  the  boy, 
Guy  Carroll,  his  face  flushed  and  his  blue  eyes  fairly 
blazing. 

"Guy!  What  is  it?" 

They  were  in  the  edge  of  the  wood,  and  free  from 
observation.  The  boy  cast  a  quick,  eager  glance 
around  and  then — 

"Oh,  Mr.  Maitland!    It  is   Cap'n  Tryon  after  all!" 

"What  of  him?  What?  What?"  Percy  exclaimed, 
catching  the  boy  by  the  arm,  with  an  anxiety  that 
was  torturing. 

"It's  he,  sir,  that  has  run  off  with  the  lady  from 
the  castle !  Yesterday — late  in  the  afternoon — Bryan 
Vank  and  Gurt  Warnell —  they  were  two  of  them  that 
had  been  sent  for  by  the  cap'n — they  came  aboard  the 


A    SURPRISE  FOR  ALL  HANDS.  225 

brig  and  carried  away  a  big  basket  full  of  provis- 
ions ;  and  late  at  night  Uncle  Donald  found  out  all 
about  it.  He  wouldn't  tell  me  who  told  him ;  but  it 
seems  Vank  let  it  leak  out  while  he  was  waitin'  for 
the  basket  to  be  filled.  The  provisions  were  for  two 
women — two  young  girls — that  the  cap'n'd  got 
stowed  away  in  one  of  the  caverns  on  the  slope 
of  the  Crag." 

Percy  started  as  though  he  had  been  shot.  It  was 
like  the  bursting  of  a  thunderbolt  over  his  head  from 
a  clear  sky.  In  his  wild  imaginings  he  had  several 
times  had  a  picture  in  mind  of  his  darling  shut  up  in 
that  place ;  but  he  had  given  it  no  serious  thought. 

Could  it  be  Ralph  Tryon,  and  not  Lord  Oakleigh, 
who  had  spirited  away  the  two  girls?  It  must  be. 

He  questioned  Guy  closely,  and  was,  in  the  end, 
perfectly  assured  there  could  be  no  mistake.  The 
pirate  chief  himself  had  stolen  away  the  dear 
one,  and  now  had  her  shut  up  in  the  cavern  of  the 
Crag. 

"Guy,  do  you  know  where  that  cave  is?" 

"I  only  know,  sir,  that  it  is  just  about  half-way  from 
the  shore  of  the  bay  to  the  point  where  the  head  of 
the  Crag  shoots  up  steeply.  I  was  never  there.  But 
Uncle  Donald  says  there'll  be  no  use  in  your 
attemptin'  to  get  at  'em  in  there,  for  there's  a  secret 
entrance  which  nobody  can  find  only  them  as  knows 
it.  Uncle  knows  it,  but  he  can't  tell  it.  Leastwise  I 
don't  believe  he'd  want  to  break  such  an  oath  as  he'd 
have  to  break  if  he  did  it.  He  says  you'll  watch 
till  they  come  out — the  cap'n  and  the  lady — and  then, 


226  THE  SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

p'raps,  you'll  be  able  to  catch  him.  Oh,  I  hope  you 
will !" 

"You  are  sure  Ralph  Tryon  will  be  in  that  cavern 
this  forenoon?" 

"Yes,  sir.  He's  there,  now,  somewhere.  I  should 
think,  from  what  I've-heard,  that  it  was  a  big  place 
with  lots  of  odd  nooks  and  corners  in  it.  I  heard 
old  Ben  Popwell  say  once,  when  he  didn't  know  'at 
I  was  listenin',  'at  it  would  be  a  great  place  for 
blind-man's  buff." 

The  startled,  electrified  youth  waited  for  no  more. 
He  thanked  the  lad  kindly,  promising  him  that  he 
should  never  seek  his  good  offices  in  vain ;  then  he 
said  : 

"Tell  Uncle  Donald  that  the  rat  is  in  more  of  a 
trap  than  he  dreams  of!"  And  with  this  he  hurried 
away,  keeping  on  to  the  village,  as  he  had  first  in- 
tended ;  but  with  his  purpose  changed.  His  first  call 
was  on  the  chief  constable,  who  there  resided, 
named  Allan  Tisdale.  He  was  a  man  of  middle  age; 
large  and  powerful  of  frame ;  bold  and  fearless  in 
the  line  of  his  duty,  yet  kind,  affable,  and  gentle- 
manly. 

He  had  been  intimate  with  our  hero  for  a  long 
time  and  esteemed  him  highly. 

"Well,  Maitland,  have  you  anything  new?" 

The  visitor  was  not  a  great  while  in  telling  him. 
He  told  all  that  he  had  learned  from  old  Donald's 
nephew. 

"And  now,  what?"  the  constable  demanded,  open- 
eyed.  He  was  nervous  and  excited.  He  could  not 


A    SURPRISE  FOR  ALL   HANDS.  22? 

see  his  way.  "We  know  where  the  man  is ;  but  how 
are  we  to  reach  him?  Ah!  and  that  reminds  me;  I 
saw  a  squad  of  seamen — a  dozen  or  more — not  half  an 
hour  ago,  landing  from  a  boat  at  the  foot  of  the 
rocky  slope.  In  all  probability  they  are  to  do  guard 
duty  up  at  the  cave." 

"How  many  good,  reliable  men  can  you  raise  at 
once?"  Percy  asked. 

"I  can  muster  twenty  in  half  an  hour,  perhaps;  if 
I  should  call  upon  the  villagers,  I  might  make  it 
thirty." 

"Very  well — will  you  take  with  you  five  of  your 
best  men — those  in  whom  you  have  the  most  confi- 
dence, and  come  with  me?  I  will  lead  you  into  that 
cavern  by  a  way  that  will  astonish  you." 

"Ha! — Maitland!"  exclaimed  the  officer,  with  a 
quick  start  and  a  look  of  intense  eagerness.  "Is  it 
at  the  Old  Chapel?  Have  you  found  it?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Tisdale,  I  have  succeeded.  You  will 
see  a  strange  place.  But  speak  not  a  word  to 
another.  My  soul !  it  must  not  leak  out  until  we 
are  ready  to  strike  the  blow.  You  will  be  circum- 
spect." 

"Trust  me.  Ah,  you've  found  the  secret  of  the 
ghosts.  The  haunted  chapel  is  haunted  no  more, 
save  by  spirits  in  flesh  and  blood !  Good !  But  this 
isn't  work.  Come  with  me  and  give  me  your  help. 
We'll  very  soon  have  our  men  ready  for  duty." 

Everything  worked  favorably.  The  men  wanted 
were  found  without  difficulty;  and  the  stout  artisans 
and  laborers  of  the  village,  when  they  had  been  told 


228  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

of  the  business  on  hand,  were  not  only  willing  but 
eager  to  join. 

In  little  more  than  half  an  hour  from  the  time  of 
their  setting  forth  the  work  was  done.  Tisdale  had 
selected  the  five  men  who  were  to  accompany  him, 
while  his  lieutenant — Martin  O'Brien — a  faithful  and 
reliable  officer,  at  the  head  of  four-and-twenty  more, 
all  well  armed,  was  to  proceed  up  the  face  of  the 
Crag — not  to  go  to  the  cave — but  to  stop  at  a  point 
where  they  would  be  sure  to  intercept  any  who 
should  attempt  to  escape  from  the  cave  in  that 
direction. 

Thus,  Percy  believed,  they  would  be  able  to 
capture  the  whole  party — all  of  the  pirates  whom 
the  chief  had  called  to  his  assistance — and  he 
thought  there  might  be  twelve  to  fifteen  of  them. 
When  these  arrangements  had  been  perfected,  and 
they  were  sure  that  O'Brien  understood  his  part 
exactly,  Percy  and  the  constable,  with  the  five 
helpers — strong,  experienced  officers,  every  one — 
took  their  way  to  the  castle,  where  they  found 
the  earl  anxiously  waiting  for  intelligence. 

When  the  old  nobleman  had  heard  the  story,  when 
he  knew  that  his  darling  had  been  found,  or  the 
same  as  found,  and  he  was  assured  that  he  should 
ere  long  behold  her,  when  it  had  all  been  made  clear 
to  him,  his  joy  was  beyond  his  power  of  language  to 
express  it. 

"Percy!  Percy!  My  noble  boy!"  he  cried,  re- 
garding the  youth  with  loving  trustful  looks,  "you 
must  take  the  lead.  You  know  all  about  it.  You 


A   SURPRISE  FOR  ALL  HANDS.  229 

are  the  man.     I   am  sure  Mr.  Tisdale  will  not  be 
offended." 

"Pooh!  pooh!  Maitland  is  the  man  to  lead,  my 
lord.  We  all  understand  it." 

"Let  me  give  my  humble  help,  as  best  I  can,"  said 
Percy,  not  at  all  discomposed  by  the  encomiums 
thus  passed  upon  him.  "Where  I  can  lead,  be  sure 
I  will ;  and  when  I  can  follow  I  will  do  so  with  all 
my  heart.  And  now,  my  lord,  how  many  of  your 
men  are  we  to  take  with  us?" 

"Here  is  Michael.  He  will  muster  them.  There 
should  be  ten,  at  least." 

"Twelve,  my  lord,  counting  me.  Of  course  you'll 
let  me  go." 

"Yes,  you  may  go.  Now  hurry  and  collect  the 
men  and  get  out  the  arms.  Oh,  do  be  expedi- 
tious!" 

Now  was  the  time  and  the  need  when  our  hero 
showed  the  quality  that  was  in  him.  Under  his 
calm,  quiet,  prompt  guidance,  with  a  power  of  com- 
mand natural  to  him,  the  force  of  the  castle  was 
mustered,  armed,  and  organized  in  less  than  twenty 
minutes,  and  in  half  an  hour  after  the  arrival  of 
himself  and  the  constable  at  the  castle  the  party, 
twenty  in  number,  counting  the  earl,  was  ready  to 
set  forth. 

******* 

The  appearance  of  a  man  in  priestly  robes,  follow- 
ing behind  the  pirate  chief  and  his  comrades,  at  first 
struck  Cordelia  with  a  paralyzing  horror.  The  sig- 
nificance of  the  scene  was  not  to  be  mistaken.  It 


230  THE  SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

was  the  voice  of  Ralph  Tryon  that  roused  her  to 
indignation  and  gave  her  strength. 

The  chief,  in  his  gorgeous  raiment  of  velvet  and 
gold,  advanced  to  the  center  of  the  cavernous 
apartment ;  his  six  comrades,  in  broadcloth  and  silk, 
filing  in  behind  him,  where  they  took  position  in  a 
well-dressed  line.  Then  the  pretended  priest,  with 
slow,  even  step,  moved  to  a  place  on  Tryon's  left 
hand  and  a  little  in  front. 

"Now,  fair  lady,"  said  the  master  of  the  situa- 
tion, "I  have  come  to  fulfill  my  promise.  I  will 
set  you  free  from  this  place,  but  you  will  go  with  me 
as  my  wife.  Do  you  understand  me?" 

Something  in  the  man's  voice — something  new  and 
strange — gave  to  our  heroine  a  start  of  wonder.  It 
had  lost  much  of  its  huskiness  and  had  put  off  its 
roughness ;  it  sounded  no  more  like  the  voice  of  the 
sea.  She  looked  at  him  sharply,  looked  long  and 
earnestly,  and  presently  she  saw  a  smile  curling 
about  his  deep  black  eyes,  a  smile  so  wicked  and 
malevolent  and  so  vengeful  that  it  aroused  her 
beyond  her  endurance. 

"Man!  Demon!  Fiend!  Whatever  you  call 
yourself,  I  tell  you,  in  your  teeth,  you  speak  false- 
hood !  You  have  no  power  to  make  me  your  wife ! 
Lay  a  hand  upon  me,  and  I  will  kill  you  if  I  can ! 
Were  this  man  in  sacerdotal  robe  a  true  priest,  he 
would  know  he  can  not  do  the  wicked  deed.  It 
would  be  but  mockery — an  empty  form.  If  he  be  a 
true  man,  he  will  not  attempt  it." 

"Holy  father,"  said  the  chief,  turning  to  the  pre- 


A    SURPRISE  FOR  ALL  HANDS.  231 

tended  priest,  without  paying  any  heed  whatever  to 
the  hot  and  angry  words  of  the  girl,  "y°u  hear  what 
she  says.  Now  what  say  you?" 

"I  say,  my  lord,  if  the  situation  is  as  you  have 
represented  it — if  such  has  been  the  general  under- 
standing, and  if  the  lady's  lawful  guardian  consents, 
I  could  marry  you,  and  the  bond  would  be  too 
strong  for  man  to  break," 

"Now,  Cordelia."  He  had  put  his  hand  to  his 
head,  and  appeared  to  be  loosing  something  behind 
his  ear,  when  a  quick,  sharp  cry  of  alarm  from  one  of 
the  men  behind  him  caused  him  to  look  toward  the 
entrance. 

On  his  way  to  the  cave,  as  we  might  judge  from 
what  the  constable  had  that  morning  seen,  Tryon 
had  been  accompanied  by  a  strong  force  of  his  sworn 
friends  and  adherents. 

Ten  stout  men,  well  armed,  he  had  left  at  the  mouth 
of  the  outer  cave,  and  the  six  who  had  come  in  with 
him  he  had  brought  for  witnesses,  being  determined 
that  the  ceremony  should  not  lack  in  that  respect. 

With  regard  to  danger  inside  his  cavernous  retreat, 
the  pirate  had  not  dreamed  of  such  a  thing.  He 
would  as  soon  have  thought  of  finding  the  sunlight 
streaming  into  its  uttermost  recesses. 

Hence  he  had  entered  the  chamber,  leaving  the 
others  to  follow,  never  once  thinking  of  closing  the 
way  behind  him. 

Now,  upon  hearing  the  note  of  alarm,  he  looked 
toward  the  entrance  and  there  beheld  a  sight  that 
confounded  and  bewildered  him. 


232  THE  SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

He  saw  Percy  Maitland,  and  by  his  side  the  con- 
stable, Allan  Tisdale,  just  entering  the  place,  or 
rather  he  saw  them  leap  quickly  in,  and  directly  be- 
hind them  came  the  old  earl,  with  seemingly  a  score 
of  men  at  his  back. 

"In  the  king's  name,"  shouted  the  constable,  "sur- 
render!" 

"Not  until  I  have  made  my  mark  here,"  the  pirate 
chief  replied ;  and  quick  as  thought  he  snatched  at  a 
pistol  in  his  bosom,  and  drew  it  forth,  his  purpose 
being  to  shoot  young  Maitland. 

But  two  other  persons  were  as  quick  as  he; 
though  they  might  not  have  been  had  not  his  lame 
hand  bothered  him. 

Before  he  could  cock  the  weapon,  Cordelia,  who 
had  heard  and  understood  his  words,  struck  up  his 
hand,  causing  him  to  utter  an  audible  groan  of  pain; 
and  at  the  same  moment  the  earl,  full  sure  in  the  heat 
and  excitement  of  the  moment,  that  the  life  of  his 
brave  young  friend  was  in  peril,  raised  the  pistol  in 
his  hand  and  fired. 

The  pirate  pressed  his  hand  over  his  bosom  and 
sank  back,  coming  in  contact  with  the  pretended 
priest  as  he  did  so.  The  latter,  thinking  the  wound- 
ed man  would  fall,  caught  him  to  uphold  him,  and 
in  doing  so  his  fingers  became  entangled  in  the 
thick,  heavy  beard  of  the  face,  and — pulled  it 
away. 

The  chief  had  cast  loose  the  principal  fastening 
of  his  disguise  while  speaking  with  Cordelia — the 
speech  which  had  been  interrupted  by  the  appear- 


MARGER  Y 'S  Jf£  VELA  TION—COXCL  US10N.       233 

ance  of  the  new-comers  and  the  note  of  alarm 
from  the  startled  seamen. 

Yes,  the  disguise  came  away  just  as  the  last  of  the 
pirate  gang  had  been  overcome  and  secured — the 
tawny  beard  and  hair — revealing  the  swart  face  of 
Matthew  Brandon,  Lord  Oakleigh ! 

At  first  those  who  beheld  refused  to  believe  the 
evidence  of  their  own  senses.  It  did  not  seem  possi- 
ble that  one  and  the  same  man  could  have  filled 
both  characters. 

But  they  were  forced  to  believe  in  time.  And 
now  Percy  Maitland  knew  what  it  was  in  the  looks  of 
Ralph  Tryon  that  had  so  puzzled  and  perplexed  him 
from  the  first. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
MARGERY'S  REVELATION— CONCLUSION. 

THE  aged  earl,  when  he  had  come  to  a  realizing 
sense  of  the  horror  of  the  situation,  sank  back  with  a 
groan  of  the  deepest,  bitterest  agony,  and  covered 
his  face  with  his  hands  as  though  to  shut  from  his 
sight  the  terrible  thing  before  him. 

And  then  arose  the  voice  of  the  pirate,  coarse, 
brutal  and  cruel,  even  though  the  hand  of  death  lay 
heavily  upon  him. 

"Oho!  my  dear  grandpapa!  You  will  have  a 
happy  thought — a  beautiful,  blissful  memory — 
through  the  remnant  of  your  life.  Your  own  hand 
took  your  grandson's  life !" 


234  THE  SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

"Oh,  Heaven  have  mercy !"  the  stricken  old  man 
groaned.  "It  needed  but  this  to  fill  the  cup  of  my 
misery  to  the  brim !" 

"Aye,"  pursued  the  wretch,  with  a  withering 
sneer,  "and  you  killed  me  to  save  the  beggarly  life 
of  a  smuggler's  brat !  Oho !  may  the  memory  give 
you  joy !  Oh,  I  am  burning  up :" 

"Dear,  dear  grandpa !"  Cordelia  exclaimed,  hast- 
ening to  her  guardian's  side  and  winding  her  arms 
about  his  neck.  "Oh,  do  not  notice  him.  Look  to 
us  who  love  you,  and  who — " 

"Love  one  another!"  Oakleigh  broke  in,  madly. 
"Oho!  Aha,  old  man!  what  did  I  tell  you?  A 
thousand  guineas  to  a  pewter  sixpence  you  give 
your  consent  yet  to  the  marriage  of  the  baronet's 
daughter  with  the  spawn  of  the — oh,  how  it  burns !" 

The  priest,  a  man  whom  Oakleigh  had  been  able 
to  buy,  after  confession  to  him  who  and  what  he 
was,  proved  to  be  a  handy  surgeon,  and  he  at  once 
proceeded  to  examine  the  wound.  It  was  in  the 
left  side,  toward  the  breast  and  near  the  heart,  and 
it  was  very  quickly  pronounced  fatal,  though  the 
clerical  leech  said  the  patient  might  live  several 
hours.  If  he  was  to  be  moved,  the  sooner  it  was 
done  the  better. 

"Let  me  die  at  the  castle,"  said  the  wounded  man. 
"If  I  am  to  live  for  hours,  let  my  good,  kind  grand- 
father be  blessed  with  the  sight  of  his  handiwork!" 

At  this  point  Percy  and  Cordelia,  who  had  found 
opportunity  for  a  word  together — she  had  sprung  to 
him  at  the  very  first,  in  the  fullness  of  her  heart,  to 


MARGERY'S   REVELATION— CONCLUSION.      235 

bless  him  for  having  come  to  save  her.  "Oh,"  she 
had  cried,  "I  knew  you  would  come!" — these  two 
came  to  the  old  man's  aid  and  led  him  away. 

"The  man  is  mad,"  said  Maitland.  "You  shall  not 
suffer  the  cruel  torture  more." 

"Come,  dear  grandpa !     Come  with  us." 

They  led  him  to  the  entrance,  where  he  promised 
to  go  with  his  darling,  after  which  Percy  returned 
and  attended  to  the  arrangements  for  moving  the 
wounded  man ;  but  he  finally  gave  the  work  into  the 
hands  of  old  Michael,  the  priest  having  promised  to 
accompany  them  to  the  castle. 

Meantime  Mr.  Tisdale,  with  two  of  his  men,  had 
gone  on  to  the  outer  cave,  toward  the  face  of  the 
slope,  where  he  was  just  in  season  to  meet  others 
of  his  men,  who  informed  him  that  they  had  cap- 
tured ten  of  the  pirate  crew  outside.  And  this 
completed  the  work.  They  believed  they  had  taken 
all  who  had  left  the  brig. 

Under  these  circumstances,  as  the  constable  could 
not  be  wanted  at  the  castle,  he  returned  to  the  cave 
with  a  few  of  his  men  and  took  in  charge  all  the 
prisoners,  saving  only  the  wounded  chief;  and  while 
the  servants  of  the  earl  conveyed  him  forth,  by 
way  of  the  old  chapel,  he  and  his  force  would 
take  the  others  down  over  the  slope  of  the  crag, 
outside. 

On  their  way  through  the  long  and  devious  sub- 
terranean passage  Matthew  Brandon  did  not  once 
open  his  lips ;  but  when  they  had  reached  the  chapel, 
and  he  saw  our  hero  start  to  move  the  altar  back 


236  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

against  the  wall,  thus  uncovering  the  secret  pass,  he 
burst  forth,  though  weakly : 

"Oho!  So  it's  you?  Viper!  You  have  found  the 
secret.  Oh,  may  the  fiends  of — "  He  stopped, 
with  a  shoot  of  pain  in  his  side,  and  was  forced  to 
hold  his  tongue  for  a  time. 

Cordelia  was  strongly  tempted  to  tell  him  that  the 
sight  of  himself,  one  stormy  evening,  entering  the 
chapel,  and  disappearing  beneath  the  altar,  had  led 
to  the  discovery.  But  Percy  told  him  the  same 
later,  and  he  confessed  that  he  had  come  in  on  that 
night  wearing  a  monk's  robe. 

And  then  in  astonishment  Percy  looked  at  what 
had  never  before  attracted  his  attention.  In  profile 
the  face  of  Lord  Oakleigh  was  an  exact  pattern  of 
what  Hugh  Maitland's  face  had  been. 

Sure,  it  was  curious ;  and  yet  not  at  all  wonderful 
that  he  had  not  before  noticed  it.  With  the  full 
beard  of  Ralph  Tryon  on  his  face,  his  profile  was 
hidden ;  while  with  the  face  of  Matthew  Brandon  he 
had  not  been  familiar.  On  that  stormy  evening  he 
had  not  worn  his  beard  nor  his  wig. 

A  very  good  litter  had  been  found  in  the  chamber 
beneath  the  chapel,  and  on  this  the  wounded  man 
was  placed  and  so  conveyed  to  the  castle.  And 
there  a  new  surprise  awaited  them. 

Standing  in  the  court  in  company  with  old  Don- 
ald Rodney  was  Margery  Maitland,  looking  pale  and 
wan — not  the  Margery  of  the  olden  time.  In  truth 
she  looked  like  a  woman  not  long  for  this  lower 
life. 


MARGERY'S  REVELATION— CONCLUSION.       237 

Percy,  when  he  saw  her,  felt  his  heart  bound  with 
a  thrill  of  regret — almost  of  remorse. 

Had  his  forsaking  her  caused  this  sad  change? 
He  could  not  believe  it.  She  had  never  loved  him 
deeply  enough  for  that.  Yet  he  hastened  to  her  and 
put  forth  his  hands. 

"Mother!    .Oh,  why  are  you — " 

"Hush,  boy!  You  know  not  to  whom  you  speak. 
Where  is  the  other— Ralph  Tryon?  Where  is  he?" 

"Mother!  Oh,  did  you  know?  Of  course  you 
did.  There  he  is,  wounded — dying." 

"Dying!  dying,  did  you  say?" 

"Yes.     He  was  shot  in  the  flurry  of  capture." 

"Shot  in  attempting  your  life,  was  he  not?" 

"You  are  right.  Whoever  told  you,  told  the 
truth." 

"Nobody  told  me,  boy.  My  own  instinct  so  im- 
pressed me.  Ah, he  is  on  yonder  litter!  Oh,  this 
is  judgment!  This  is  the  vengeance  of  heaven! 
Matthew  Brandon!"  going  to  the  side  of  the  litter, 
"your  hand  was  not  red  enough  with  pirating,  but 
you  must  steal  defenseless  girls  away  from  their 
homes! — Oh,  boy!  boy — your  crimes  have  found 
you  at  length !" 

"How  now,  beldam!  What  do  ye  here?"  cried 
the  wounded  man.  Presently,  with  a  fiendish  gleam 
in  his  eye,  he  added :  "Oh,  Margery,  give  yonder 
old  man  joy !  His  hand  it  was  that  shot  me  down ! 
aye !  he  shot  me  to  save  the  life  of  the  smuggler's 
spawn!  What  d'ye  think  of  it?" 

"Was  it  the  earl's  hand  that  did  it?" 


238  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

"Aye,  verily." 

"And  to  save — " 

"The  smuggler's  brat !  the  spawn  of  an  outlaw !" 
the  wretch  broke  in  upon  her. 

"Fool!  Fool!  How  long  can  he  live?"  she  sud- 
denly asked,  turning  from  the  litter  to  the  priest, 
who  stood  nearest. 

"Not  many  hours." 

"Then  carry  him  in,  and  I  must  go  with  him.  I 
have  that  to  say  which  he  must  hear." 

"Ho!  ho!  Will  ye  tell  them  how  ye  tried  to  do  the 
very  work  they  shot  me  for  attempting,  Margery?" 

"Yes,  I'll  tell  with  all  my  heart.  Don't  think  I 
fear." 

"Don't  let  her  come!  Don't  let  her  come!"  the 
fallen  chieftain  howled.  And  he  tried  to  speak 
further,  but  his  strength  failed  him  and  pain  over- 
came him. 

Something  in  the  woman's  look,  in  her  manner, 
and  in  the  sound  of  her  voice  attracted  the  earl's 
attention  and  interested  him,  and  he  determined 
that  she  should  have  her  way. 

At  any  rate  it  should  be  as  Percy  said,  and  so  he 
told  her.  And  she  besought  her  son  to  suffer  her  to 
go  in  with  them,  and  he  could  not  find  it  in  his  heart 
to  refuse  her. 

They  bore  the  litter  to  the  foot  of  the  steps  of  the 
main  vestibule,  and  thence  took  the  wounded  man 
in  their  arms. 

They  carried  him  into  the  great  hall  and  into  the 
principal  drawing-room, — took  him  in  there  because 


MARGERY'S  REVELATION— CONCLUSION.       239 

there  was  in  the  apartment  the  largest  and  softest 
sofa  in  the  castle,  and  upon  that  sofa  they  laid  him, 
and  then  brought  pillows  for  his  head  and  pillows 
for  his  shoulders. 

The  pseudo-priest,  really  a  surgeon,  having  found 
a  suitable  instrument  for  a  probe,  thought  to  find 
the  location  of  the  bullet,  but  the  pain  he  caused  was 
so  great,  with  a  threatened  -flow  of  blood,  that  he 
desisted,  deciding  at  once,  with  perfect  assurance, 
that  it  could  do  no  good  to  find  the  missile  and 
might  hasten  the  fatal  end. 

"How  long  do  you  give  me  to  live?"  the  patient 
asked,  when  he  had  recovered  from  the  pain  that  had 
been  given  him  by  the  probe. 

"You  may  live  an  hour;  you  may  live  longer,  and 
you  may  not  live  so  long." 

"Oh!  Aha!  ha!  ha!  Where's  the  earl?  Ha! 
old  man !  Don't  forget  the  joy  that  is  to  be  yours 
in  the  memory  of  this  day's  work!  Say — did  you 
love  my  father?" 

"Oh,  boy!  boy!     Why  were  you  not  like  him?" 

"Ha!  He  was  a  saint,  was  he?  Well,  if  I  should 
chance  to  meet  him  in  the  great  hereafter — and  who 
shall  say  what  may  happen? — I  may  meet  him,  you 
know.  If  I  do,  be  sure  I'll  tell  him  who  shot  me. 
Aye,  and  I'll  tell  him  for  why  his  own  father  shot 
his  boy.  It  was  to  prevent  him  from  dealing  out 
justice  to  a  traitor !  Ay !"  the  pirate  shouted  in  a 
sudden  outburst  of  fury -and  mad  passion,  "where  is 
the  traitor? — the  low-lived,  false-hearted  spawn  of  a 
low-lived,  outlawed  smuggler.  Where  is  he?  Ho! 


240  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

Earl  of  Allerdale,  will  ye  mate  your  fair  ward  with 
the—" 

"Hush!— Poor  fool!  You  know  not  what  you 
say."  So  spake  Margery  Maitland,  advancing  to  the 
mad  man's  side,  and  laying  her  hand  over  his 
mouth.  She  saw  that  his  own  weakness  would  keep 
him  quiet  for  a  time ;  and  she  brought  a  chair  and 
sat  near  him. 

And  so  she  sat  for  a  full  minute,  and  during  that 
time  the  only  sound  that  broke  the  air  was  the  ster- 
torous breathing  of  the  wounded  man.  At  length 
she  raised  her  head  and  looked  around,  her  eyes 
presently  resting  upon  our  hero. 

"Percy,"  she  said,  her  voice  low  and  tremulous. 
"I  have  but  little  to  say,  especially  to  you.  I  did — 
I  did,  with  my  own  hands  attempt  your  life !  I 
offered  you  the  death  which  another  had  pre- 
pared— you  know  him — let  us  call  him  Ralph 
Tryon.  No,  I'll  call  him  by  his  true  name — " 

At  this  point  the  man  to  whom  she  had  thus 
alluded  offered  to  interrupt  her,  as  he  did  several 
times  later;  but  his  weakness  and  his  pain  held  him 
quiet. 

"Matthew  Brandon  is  his  name.  He  had  gained 
a  hold  upon  me,  and  he  knew  it.  As  you  are  aware, 
he  made  the  acquaintance  of  my  husband  little  more 
than  a  year  before  his  death ;  and  he  sailed  with  him 
in  three  or  four  trips  to  France — sailed  thus  while 
they  at  the  castle  thought  him  safely  at  Oxford  at 
school.  You  know  how,  at  length,  he  joined  the 
brig  and  finally  took  command,  having  taken  another 


MARGERY'S  REVELATION— CONCLUSION.       241 

name,  together  with  a  disguise  so  cunningly  con- 
trived that  no  one  could  detect  or  mistrust  it.  So 
he  came  to  the  command,  and  he  contrived  to  keep 
the  momentous  secret  safe.  He  worked  upon  me. 
He  sought  my  confidence.  He  flattered  me.  He 
appeared  to  be  kind  to  me.  You  will  wonder  how 
it  could  be.  That  I  will  explain  by  and  by. 

"Percy,  not  long  ago  he  came  to  me  and  solemnly 
swore  that  you  had  entered  into  an  agreement  with 
the  officers  of  the  law  to  deliver  up — to  betray — 
himself  and  the  brig  and  the  whole  crew  into  their 
hands.  At  first  I  refused  to  believe  it,  but  he  swore 
so  solemnly  and  I  saw  you  coming  here,  and  I  knew 
how  your  heart  was  not  with  us — that  finally,  I  came 
to  accept  it  as  a  fact,  and  then  I  felt  bitter  toward 
you.  What  would  become  of  me,  if  the  smuggling 
was  stopped?  And  so,  when  he  brought  to  me  the 
wine,  and  bade  me  to  give  it  to  you,  swearing  that  if 
I  did  not  he  would  clear  out  and  never  look  upon 
me  again, — then  I  yielded. 

"Oh,  Percy!  On  that  morning  when  you  went 
away — when  you  blessed  me  and  left  me — then, 
Percy,  my  eyes  were  opened,  and  I  felt  in  my  heart 
what  you  had  become  to  me.  I  felt  then  all  the 
difference  between  you  and  him ;  and  I  sat  down 
and  wept— wept  as  I  had  not  wept  before  since  my 
own  Hugh  left  me.  After  that  I  saw  Matthew 
Brandon  again,  and  he  had  the  face  to  ask  me  to 
help  him  get  Lady  Cordelia  Chester  away  from  the 
castle,  that  he  might  marry  her.  If  he  had  asked  me 
that  six  months  ago  I  might  have  listened ;  but 


242  THE  SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

other  feelings  had  come  to  me.  I  told  him  no ;  and 
I  told  him  further,  if  he  persisted  in  the  purpose  evil 
would  come  of  it ;  but  he  laughed  at  me,  and  went 
his  way.  This  morning  I  saw  Donald  Rodney,  and 
asked  him  what  was  being  done ;  and  when  he  knew 
how  I  felt — when  he  had  seen  the  desire  of  my 
heart — he  told  me  all ;  and  then  I  persuaded  him  to 
come  up  here  with  me,  being  sure  that  Brandon 
would  be  taken. 

"I  will  say  nothing  about  his  piracy,  only  I  assure 
you  that  I  fought  against  it  as  long  as  I  could,  feel- 
ing sure  that  it  could  end  but  in  one  way.  But  he 
was  headstrong,  and  he  conquered.  Percy,  do  you 
believe  me?" 

"Yes,  mother,  with  all  my  heart." 

Tears  sprang  to  the  woman's  eyes,  but  she  put 
them  back ;  and  again  there  was  silence,  the  signifi- 
cant breathing  of  the  sufferer  on  the  sofa  becoming 
more  and  more  weak  and  labored.  By  and  by  she 
looked  up  again,  this  time  turning  to  the  earl.  She 
gazed  upon  him  for  a  few  moments,  evidently  in 
deep  thought,  and  at  length  spoke. 

"Lord  Allerdale,  please  do  not  interrupt  me.  I 
have  a  strange  story  to  tell  to  you — one  that  I 
think  will  interest  you.  Will  you  let  me  tell  it  in 
my  own  way?"  She  paused  for  a  little  time,  looking 
at  him  curiously,  and  then  glancing  toward  the 
sofa,  and,  anon,  toward  where  Percy  and  Cordelia  sat 
near  together.  Finally  she  went  on : 

"My  lord,  you  have  not  forgotten  when  I  was  a 
servant  in  your  family.  Ten  years — from  the  age  of 


MARGERY'S  REVELATION— CONCLUSION.      243 

twelve  to  two-and-twenty — I  was  a  member  of  your 
household.  I  see  that  you  remember. 

"You  remember  too,  that  when  your  son  George, 
then  Lord  Oakleigh,  brought  his  young  and  beauti- 
ful wife  home  I  was  detailed  to  wait  upon  her,  and 
I  became,  after  a  time,  her  especial  servant.  I  had 
no  other  duties  but  to  wait  on  her.  She  was  kind ; 
and  she  was,  in  her  own  way,  just,  but  she  was 
proud,  and  a  strict  observer  of  what  she  deemed  the 
proprieties  of  life. 

"I  had  served  Lady  Oakleigh  not  quite  a  year 
when  she  discovered  that  I  was  soon  to  become  a 
mother.  She  asked  me  who  was  my  husband.  At 
first  I  hesitated,  and  she  misunderstood  me;  and 
finally,  when  I  told  her  that  I  had  been  lawfully 
married  to  Hugh  Maitland,  she  would  not  believe  me. 

"But  that  was  not  all.  She  broke  out  into  a  harsh 
and  bitter  denunciation  of  my  lover,  as  she  called 
him.  He  was  a  smuggler  and  an  outlaw,  liable  at 
any  time  to  be  gibbeted ;  and  she  would  suffer  me 
no  longer  to  remain  in  her  service.  She  cast  me 
out,  coldly,  and,  I  felt,  cruelly. 

"You,  my  lord,  were  away  at  the  time,  traveling 
on  the  continent.  Had  you  been  here  I  should 
have  appealed  to  you,  and  I  believe  you  would 
have  taken  pity  on  me,  but  there  was  no  pity  in  the 
bosom  of  my  lady ;  and  her  husband  would  not  have 
crossed  her  for  his  life ;  for  she,  too,  was  about  to 
become  a  mother. 

"And  now,  my  lord,  a  curious  thing  happened. 
When  I  had  been  turned  away,  my  lady,  being  so 


244  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

near  to  her  motherhood,  wanted  a  wet  nurse  in  my 
place,  and  she  found  one;  and  who  do  you  think 
it  was? 

"My  own  sister! — the  only  relative  of  blood  I  had 
in  the  world.  She  was  a  widow ;  her  husband  dead 
only  a  few  months;  and  was  living  in  Burton.  Hul- 
dah — that  was  her  name — Huldah  came;  and  the 
mistress  liked  her.  She  was  plump,  and  strong,  and 
healthy,  with  rosy  cheeks  and  bright  black  eyes. 

"She  was  obedient,  and  meant  to  do  her  duty; 
but  she  was  indignant  at  the  way  in  which  I  had 
been  treated ;  and,  to  make  the  matter  worse,  Lady 
Oakleigh  so  far  forgot  herself  as  to  denounce  me 
and  terribly  abuse  my  husband.  It  so  happened 
that  Hugh  was  a  favorite  with  Huldah;  and  when 
she  heard  her  lady  so  berate  him  she  was  very 
angry. 

"And  now,  my  lord,  you  may  be  able  to  under- 
stand what  followed.  It  was  evident  that  her  lady- 
ship and  I  would  become  mothers  at  very  nearly 
the  same  time ;  and  my  sister  joined  me  willingly  in 
a  plot  not  only  for  vengeance,  but  for  placing  a  child 
of  our  blood  on  the  way  to  rank  and  station.  If  the 
children  should  happen  to  be  of  the  same  sex  there 
would  not  be  much  trouble. 

"Do  you  ask  me  if  I  had  not  a  mother's  heart  of 
love  for  her  own  offspring?  I  answer  you — by  the 
plan  we  proposed  I  should  be  near  my  child  all  my 
life.  Should  it  be  a  boy,  which  I  was  sure  it  would 
be,  I  should  find  real  joy  and  pride  in  seeing  him 
grow  up,  rich,  proud,  noble,  and  honored.  But,  oh, 


MARGERY'S  REVELATION— CONCLUSION.       245 

heavens !  what  a  fall  of  all  my  glowing  anticipations 
have  I  found  in  the  reality! 

"My  lord,  everything  happened  to  help  on  our 
plan.  The  children  were  born  within  six  hours  of 
each  other  and  were  both  boyS.  My  child  was  born 
in  your  woodman's  cottage,  just  in  the  edge  of  the 
walnut  grove,  at  six  o'clock  in  the  evening,  Lady 
Oakleigh's  six  hours  later. 

"The  old  physician  left  me  and  went  to  her.  He 
left  the  castle  at  two  o'clock ;  and  the  only  human 
being  who  had  fairly  examined  the  infant  was  the 
nurse,  Huldah. 

"An  hour  later,  my  lord,  when  the  nurse  had  got 
rid  of  the  last  hanger-on,  and  her  ladyship  had  gone 
to  sleep  under  the  influence  of  an  opiate,  Huldah 
took  the  infant  in  her  arms,  wrapped  snugly  in 
warm  blankets,  and  brought  it  to  me ;  and  she  car- 
ried my  child — the  child  of  Hugh  Maitland  and  Mar- 
gery his  wife — back  to  the  castle,  back  to  the  arms 
of  Lady  Oakleigh;  and  the  cheat  was  not  dis- 
covered— was  never  mistrusted. 

"When  the  daylight  came,  those  who  saw  the 
infant  nestling  in  the  nurse's  arms,  or  resting  on  her 
ladyship's  bosom,  wondered  where  it  got  such  black 
eyes  and  such  black  hair ;  but  it  was  a  fine,  healthy 
child,  and  they  were  proud  of  it. 

"Ah !  my  lord,  it  was  a  healthier,  heavier  child 
than  was  brought  to  me ;  and  I  verily  believe  had 
Lady  Oakleigh  been  permitted  to  keep  her  own  off- 
spring, she  would  not  have  reared  it  to  even  early 
youth. 


246  THE  SMUGGLER  OF  KING'S  COVE. 

"The  free  air  of  our  woodland  cottage ;  the  out-of- 
door  sports;  the  sailing;  and  the  rough-and-tumble; 
and,  above  all  else,  the  plain,  substantial  food,  gave 
health  and  strength  and  vigor;  and  he  grew  up  as 
pure  and  beautiful  in  mind  as  he  was  in  body. 

"I  may  remind  you  here  that  my  husband — Hugh 
Maitland — smuggler  though  he  was,  was  a  Christian 
gentleman;  and  from  him  the  boy  never  received 
a  precept  nor  an  example  that  was  not  good, 
setting  aside,  of  course,  the  one  matter  of  his  pro- 
fession. 

"And  now,  my  lord,  do  you  ask  me  why  I  did  not 
love  the  child — the  beautiful  boy — with  all  my 
heart?  I  will  tell  you. 

"I  was  jealous  of  him !  I  had  robbed  him  of  rank, 
and  wealth,  and  high,  brilliant  life,  and  given,  as  I 
had  fondly  believed,  those  things  to  my  own  son. 
But  look  at  the  result !  I  looked  upon  the  boy 
under  my  roof,  and  saw  him  all  that  Heaven  itself 
could  ask  a  perfect  boy  to  be. 

"Then  I  looked  upon  the  boy  to  whom  I  had 
given  every  opportunity  for  high  and  noble  life,  for 
wealth  and  luxury  and  power,  and  what  did  I  see? 
1  looked  upon  the  child  of  my  own  blood,  in  whose 
greatness  I  had  promised  myself  so  much  pride  and 
joy,  and  what  did  I  find?  Alas!  my  evil  deed  had 
recoiled  upon  myself.  I  saw  my  boy,  him  to  whom 
I  had  given  all  the  world  at  the  cost  of  my  own  soul, 
going  down,  down,  down,  a  poor  worthless  stick! 
Had  I  kept  him  to  myself  and  thrown  him  at  an 
early  age  upon  his  own  resources  for  a  livelihood,  he 


MARGERY'S  REVELATION— CONCLUSION.       247 

might  have  been  different.  But  I  can  not  com- 
plain. 

"Percy!  Percy!"  turning  to  the  half-stupefied 
youth,  with  tears  starting  down  her  shrunken  cheeks. 
"On  that  morning  when  you  blessed  me — when,  after 
I  had  raised  my  hand  against  your  life,  and  you 
knew  it,  you  asked  God  to  give  me  blessing,  now 
and  ever  more — in  that  hour,  Percy,  I  resolved  that 
you  should  be  restored  to  your  rights;  that,  so  far 
as  I  could  effect  it,  you  should,  for  the  time  to  come, 
enjoy  the  rank  and  wealth  that  is  lawfully  your 
own. 

"I  can  not  speak  more.  Yet — one  word — Oh,  my 
lord  ! — Lord  Allerdale !  look  upon  this  boy — look 
into  his  face — and  tell  me  what  you  see.  Oh,  how 
have  you  been  so  blind?  He  is  his  own  father  over 
again!  Do  you  not  see?  Ah,  your  heart  has  told 
you  !  You  have  loved  him,  even  when  you  thought 
him  the  smuggler's  child." 

"Percy!  Oh,  I  will  always  call  you  so!  Can  you 
doubt  the  truth  of  this?"  So  asked  the  old  earl, 
holding  the  handsome  youth  by  the  shoulders  and 
gazing  eagerly,  through  bright  tear-drops,  into  his 
face. 

"My  lord,"  Percy  answered,  trembling  at  every 
joint,  "how  can  I  doubt  it?  I  do  certainly  believe 
it  true." 

"Doubt ! — Believe !"  cried  Margery,  springing  to 
her  feet  with  arm  outstretched.  "Look  at  that 
face — the  face  on  those  pillows!  Oh,  Heaven, 
have  mercy!  Is  it  not  my  own  face  made  mascu- 


248  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

line,  and  hardened  and  brutalized?  Your  face,  boy, 
is  the  face  of  your  father.  Had  it  been  your  moth- 
er's, I  do  not  think  I  should  have  endured  you. 
Forgive  me !  I  will  say  no  more." 

At  this  point  the  pirate  chief,  who  had  been  thus 
far  held  in  check  by  the  surgeon,  started  to  a  sitting 
posture,  with  fury  in  his  face  and  a  literal  flame  in 
his  sunken  eyes.  He  raised  his  maimed  right  hand 
toward  Margery,  and  his  lips  moved.  He  gasped, 
and  flecks  of  foam  started  out,  but  he  did  not  speak. 
Another  effort  resulted  in  a  low  gurgling  howl,  and 
he  sank  back  on  his  pillows — dead. 

Margery  stood  for  a  time  at  the  sofa  side  and 
gazed  down  upon  the  swart,  dead  face.  By  and  by 
she  turned  toward  the  earl. 

"Lord  Allerdale,"  she  said,  with  a  steady,  earnest 
look  into  his  watchful  eyes,  "I  will  tell  you  how 
you  can  prove  to  me  your  undoubting  faith  in  the 
story  I  have  told  you.  Give  to  the  men  whom  I 
shall  send,  this  body,  and  allow  me  to  bury  it  by  the 
side  of  the  grave  wherein  I  laid  the  mortal  remains 
of  his  father.  Will  you  do  it?" 

The  earl  looked  at  the  stark  form  on  the  sofa 
and  shuddered.  The  sight  was  a  horror  to  him. 
Then  he  turned  and  looked  upon  the  other — the 
truly  noble,  handsome,  gallant  lad,  who  had 
already,  against  heavy  odds,  found  the  way  to  his 
heart. 

A  single  moment  he  gazed  upon  that  face — Oh, 
so  like  the  face  of  his  dead  son — and  then  he  turned 
back  to  the  woman. 


MARGERY'S  REVELATION— CONCLUSION.       249 

"Yes !  yes !  Take  it,  for  I  know  it  is  yours !  And 
may  the  Father  of  us  all,  in  His  infinite  mercy,  give 
you  peace  and  comfort  for  the  remainder  of  your 
life !  Heaven  bless  you,  Margery,  for  the  restitu- 
tion you  have  this  day  made !" 

"I  am  glad  I  have  made  it.  I  feel  better — I  feel 
less  of  unhappiness  than  I  have  felt  for  years.  The 
gain  is  mine  as  well  as  yours.  Percy  could  have 
been  never  any  more  to  me,  while  to  you  he  will  be 
a  new  joy,  a  new  life." 

"And  now,  my  lord,  before  I  leave  you,  I  have  an 
earnest  petition  to  offer.  There  are,  of  the  brig's 
crew,  a  full  score  of  men — I  think  two-and-twenty  of 
them — at  all  events,  Percy  can  give  you  their 
names." 

"I  know  them,"  said  the  young  man,  as  she  hesi- 
tated and  glanced  toward  him. 

"They  are  men,  my  lord,"  she  went  on,  "who 
never  willingly  committed  crime.  I  have  to  beseech 
you,  that  when  you  come  to  lift  the  sword  of  justice 
against  the  pirates,  these  men  may  be  spared. 
They—" 

"My  good  Margery,"  interrupted  the  earl,  with  a 
benignant,  happy  look  on  his  aged  face,  "I  am 
pleased  to  tell  you  that  the  promise  you  ask  I  have 
already  given  to  another.  The  only  consideration 
on  which  Percy  would  at  first  agree  to  assist  me  in 
capturing  the  chief  of  the  pirates  was  that  I  would 
give  free  passage,  whithersoever  they  would  go,  to 
the  men  of  whom  you  have  spoken.  Rest  you  easy, 
for  I  give  you  my  word,  not  one  of  them — not  one, 


250  THE   SMUGGLER   OF  KING'S  COVE. 

in  short,  who  can  prove  that  he  possesses  your  avouch- 
ment  for  his  character — shall  be  molested." 

Margery  bowed  low  as  she  thanked  him ;  then 
turned  and  left  the  room.  Percy  followed  her  out, 
but  she  had  nothing  more  to  say  to  him. 

"Go  back,  boy,  to  those  who  have  a  right  to  your 
love  and  your  care.  Yes,  Percy,  you  are  indeed  and 
in  truth  that  old  man's  grandson.  Go  back  to  him, 
and  let  your  love  make  some  little  return  of  joy  to 
him  for  the  many,  many  hours  of  pain  and  grief  my 
sin  has  cost  him." 

The  youth  murmured  a  fervent  blessing  upon  her, 
and  left  her.  She  found  old  Donald  in  the  hall,  and 
with  him  she  returned  to  her  cottage. 

An  hour  later  four  stout  men,  with  a  written  order 
from  her  hand,  appeared  at  the  castle  for  the  body 
of  Ralph  Maitland.  That  was  the  name  which  the 
mother  had  written. 

It  was  delivered  to  them,  and  they  bore  it  away ; 
and  the  whole  castle,  in  every  part,  and  the  whole 
household,  seemed  brighter  and  better  when  it  was 
gone. 

With  the  coming  of  evening  a  calm  and  tranquil 
joy  had  settled  upon  the  household  of  the  castle; 
for  there  was  not  a  servant  on  the  broad  estate  who 
did  not  heartily  rejoice  in  the  knowledge  that  the 
brave  and  handsome  youth,  whom  they  had  so  long 
esteemed  and  loved  for  himself  alone,  was  indeed 
and  in  truth  their  young  lord. and  master. 

"Ah,"  said  the  old  earl,  later  in  the  evening,  as  he 
took  the  hand  of  his  beautiful  ward  and  gave  it  into 


MARGERY'S  REVELATION— CONCLUSION.       251 

the  loving  grasp  of  his  grandson,  "If  your  parents 
are  permitted  to  look  down  from -the  celestial  abode, 
and  can  behold  the  things  we  do  here  on  earth,  I 
believe,  in  my  deepest  heart,  they  will  bless  me  fo^ 
that  which  now  I  do!" 


THE  END. 


i 


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